


Star Wars Rebels: Hera & Kanan

by SpecSeven



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, IN SPACE!, Idiots in Love, Kanan Jarrus - Freeform, Pre-Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars rebels - Freeform, Young Love, hera syndulla - Freeform, kanera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 47,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecSeven/pseuds/SpecSeven
Summary: Young and gifted Twi'lek pilot Hera Syndulla met former Jedi padawan Kanan Jarrus on Gorse, and the two quickly forged a dynamic partnership that eventually became the bedrock of the successful rebel cell/family known as the Spectres. They also fell in love.This fic begins right where "A New Dawn" ends.SPOILER WARNING: There are definitely some spoilers in here from several Star Wars novels, as well as the Kanan comics.UPDATE UPDATE 6/3/18: New chapter up. More to come.





	1. The Metal Menace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mini-shot that immediately follows the end of "A New Dawn".

“Let’s go somewhere,” Kanan said, heading up the ramp of the _Ghost_.

Hera walked beside him, and she arched an eyebrow. “Where do you want to go?”

Before he could answer, a small orange-and-white astromech with yellow accents rolled into view at the top of the ramp and began gesticulating wildly with its grasper arms while making a tinny and indecipherable racket. 

He stared at the droid, dumbfounded. “Is that...is that a C1 series astromech?” 

“Yes,” she sighed. “His name is Chopper, and he’s a bit...eccentric.”

“Chopper!” Kanan laughed. “That’s a name.”

“He lives up to it, believe me,” Hera said, scowling at the droid with her fists planted on her hips.

Kanan knew binary well enough to have caught several fairly crass insults within the droid's angry ranting, and he laughed again. Ill-tempered droids were something of rarity; routine memory wipes kept most droids from acquiring too much "personality". He studied Hera for a moment, considering what kind of person would never schedule routine memory wipes- and then it hit him. The droid was much more to her than just a droid. 

Hera threw up her arms. “Okay, _okay_! I _told_ you that getting Zaluna settled might take awhile!”

The droid bleated out one last furious warble, and then subsided into low grumbling.

"I haven’t seen one of those since the Cl- since I was a kid!” Kanan said, just narrowly avoiding mentioning the Clone Wars. He briefly chastised himself for his near slip-up. There was something about Hera that made him want to tell her all his secrets, especially now that she probably had suspicions about the biggest one. But suspicions were one thing, and knowing was another thing entirely. The less she knew, the safer they both would be.

“I pulled him out of the wreckage of a fighter that crashed near my home on Ryloth, during the Clone Wars. I fixed him, and we’ve been together ever since,” she said, regarding the droid with a mixture of fondness and exasperation.

Kanan watched her as she looked at her droid, and his chest felt suddenly tight. She was something else, that was for sure.

“Chop,” she said to the droid, “This is Kanan. I just hired him on as crew, so you’re going to treat him like he belongs on this ship.”

The little astromech rolled towards Kanan, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hera’s face tense. That seemed odd. He looked down at the droid just in time to see a grasper arm making an extremely rapid approach at his thigh. A half-second later, he felt it.

The burst of pain radiated up his leg and down through his knee. “OW!” he yelped, quickly backing away from the nasty little menace, as he rubbed at the afflicted spot on his leg.

“ _Chopper!_ ” Hera bellowed.

The droid let out a high-pitched warbling that sounded exactly like maniacal laughter.

Kanan’s eyebrows shot up, and he stared at Hera, incredulous. “You call _that_ eccentric?!”

“It might be an understatement,” she said.

“You think? I don’t remember you mentioning _anything_ about there being a violent astromech on board your ship,” he said, failing to keep an accusatory tone out of his voice.

“Well, you know...there might be some things I don’t tell you, so you might as well get used to it.” Then she shrugged, giving him a wry smile. “Welcome aboard!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought it might be fun to write the meeting between Kanan and Chopper. I might do a series of these, all taking place within the first month of Kanan's life on the Ghost.


	2. The Pilot and the Scoundrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another mini-shot. Hera shows Kanan around her ship.

Hera could feel Kanan’s eyes on her as he followed her down the corridor of her ship, towards the cockpit. She suspected that he was admiring the view, too. Appreciative gazes rarely bothered her; she was used to leering eyes, and she refused to expend the extra energy required to get angry about it. As a result, she wasn’t bothered in the slightest by Kanan’s admiration. _Let him look_ , she thought. At least he was young and handsome- a pleasant change from the crusty, dirty Spacers and smugglers she was used to.

She stopped in front of her own cabin, turning to look at him. His blue-green eyes twinkled at her, and up close, Hera could see light gold-brown freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. She blinked, feeling her cheeks grow a bit warm. He _was_ handsome, but it wouldn’t do at all to get distracted by that.

“This is my cabin,” she said, in a brusquely businesslike tone, gesturing to the door on the left. Then she pointed to the door across the corridor. “That’s yours.”

Kanan grinned- he was still in good spirits, despite Chopper’s recent attack on his leg- and pressed the button that opened the cabin’s door. He poked his head inside and peered around, looking positively gleeful.

“This is going to be a really nice change from sleeping on the floor of The Asteroid Belt,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "More often than not, you wake up sticky...and you don't know exactly why, either."

Hera found herself enjoying his exuberance. “You can have one of the other two, if you want,” she told him, “but this one is a little bit bigger.”

He turned to look at her, and a sly smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “No, this is perfect. It’s right across the corridor from yours.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she felt her lips purse. She internally braced for more of his shameless flirting.

Kanan rambled on, unsurprisingly undeterred by her expression. “It’s straight shot, just in case you need me in the middle of the sleep cycle for an emergency...or, you know...some company.” His eyes sparkled, and the devilish smile he gave her had surely beguiled many a woman across the galaxy.

Hera planted her fists on her hips, arching one eyebrow and twisting her mouth into a skeptical smirk.

“That’s a _really nice_ offer, but I think I’m going to have to pass,” she said, barbing her words with icy spikes of sarcasm for emphasis. She wondered (and probably not for the last time) if she had made a mistake in bringing this ostensible scoundrel on board her ship. If he was indeed a Jedi, it was clear that he’d long ago parted ways with the ascetic teachings of his youth.

He grinned, not looking the least bit disappointed. “The offer is on the table, in case you change your mind.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Kanan shrugged. “Suit yourself, Captain,” he said, as his attention was suddenly caught by the closed door at the end of the corridor. His eyes lit up. “Is that the cockpit?” he asked, pointing at it. For the moment, his attempt to flirt with her was completely forgotten.

She nodded and pressed the button to open the door, her lips quirking into a little smile that he didn’t see. He was already through the door.

As he started exclaiming in delight, Hera caught herself grinning. Maybe he  _was_ a scoundrel- or maybe it was all an act, designed to better hide his true identity- either way, she knew that having him on board would never be boring.     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a play on "The Princess and the Scoundrel" (I'm terrible at coming up with titles). The original plan for these mini-shots was to turn them into comics, but it didn't work out (if there are any artists out there who are into it, feel free to contact me). I figured I'd just write them out fully and add them on to the beginning of this fic, and I think it worked out pretty well. I never intended to have a single plot, or to follow any kind of overarching story with this fic, but instead to have it be more like a series of vignettes or one shots with some smaller story arcs. Ultimately, I'm writing what I want to read, and that's not going to work for everyone...but for those of you who are reading and enjoying it, thank you!


	3. The Spectres

Hera let out a contented, breathless sigh as she plopped down into her pilot’s chair. “Whew! _That_ was fun.” 

“I’m glad you think getting shot at is fun,” Kanan grumbled, leaning an elbow on the back of the co-pilot chair.

“What are you complaining about? You’re a great shot- it’s like you can’t miss.” She paused, affecting a spurious expression of suspicion that didn't quite reach her shrewd gaze. “And the blaster bolts...they never even come close to hitting you.”

He shrugged. “That’s one of the benefits of stealing from smugglers when they’re blind drunk. Remind me to tip that bartender a little extra, the next time we’re on Bothawui.”

Her expression made it pretty clear that she wasn’t buying it, but it didn’t matter. Admitting the truth of what she already suspected was out of the question.

“Well, at least those cluster bombs won’t fall back into Imperial hands- and they won’t go to the Hutts, either. Win-win.” Hera cocked her head to side slightly, considering for a moment, and then she smiled and said, “Actually, win-win-win, because _we_ get paid.”

“Sounds good to me. My drinking credits have been dwindling, and I could _definitely_ use a drink.”

The first two weeks of Kanan’s employment on the _Ghost_ had been interesting, to say the least. For one thing, Hera’s assertion that she “meant to do something” about the Empire had been, at best, an understatement. It had immediately become apparent that she was involved in _something_ , maybe some kind of partisan group- and when he asked her about it, she’d told him to mind his own business. Of course, that had instantly piqued his curiosity- but Hera was no slouch when it came to keeping secrets. After two weeks, the only thing Kanan knew for sure was that she had contacts with whom she exchanged intel, sometimes via the holonet and sometimes in person (and he was, of course, barred from attending those meetings). Occasionally, she would come back from a meeting with a task- or a mission, as she called it.

He was more amused by it than anything else, but he didn’t let her know that- she took her role in whatever she was doing _very_ seriously. He’d been on his own in the galaxy since the age of fourteen, and he’d seen a lot of people trying to be heroes. If those people hadn’t been murdered outright, they’d quickly vanished, never to be seen again. He figured that Hera had only been off her homeworld a year or two at most, and that she was still suffering from the worst affliction an Imperial citizen could suffer from- optimism. Although, to be fair, Kanan was (as far as he knew) the sole survivor of the Jedi Order, the majority of which had been wiped out by Palpatine over the course of a couple of hours. He had every reason not to be optimistic, when it came to the Empire.

Still, he was certainly no fan- the Empire had, after all, taken away the only family he’d ever known- and he was perfectly willing and able to help Hera, regardless of how futile her actions might be. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Hera’s wonderful voice called him back to the moment: “Listen, I was thinking...we really ought to have call signs. I shouldn’t be calling you ‘Kanan’ on ops...we need to keep our identities as obscure as possible. The longer we can keep ourselves from being identified by the Empire, the better.”

“Makes sense. What did you have in mind?”

She smiled a little sheepishly and said “Well, the ship is the _Ghost_ , so...I was thinking maybe ‘Spectres’. I’ll be Spectre-1, you’ll be Spectre-2, and Chopper will be Spectre-3.”

“Yeah…’Spectre’, that’s pretty cool-sounding,” Kanan said, nodding approval. “But…”

“But what?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t think Chopper is going to be too thrilled when he finds out that he’s Spectre-3. He’s already tried to kill me four times, you know.”

“He hasn’t tried to _kill_ you. You’re exaggerating,” Hera scoffed.

“Oh, no? How come you never warned me that he has an electroprod?”

She cleared her throat, looking only vaguely guilty. It was charming as hell. “Well, he never uses it on _me_...it might have slipped my mind.”

“Did it?” Kanan raised his eyebrows, giving her a pointed look.

“Anyway,” Hera said, no longer interested in the subject of her vicious droid, “what was the other thing?”

“What?”

“You said that Chopper wouldn’t be happy about being Spectre-3, ‘for one thing’. What was number two? And you’re right, by the way. About Chopper. You better watch your back.”

Kanan narrowed his eyes at her. “Yeah, thanks for the helpful advice. I was going to say that maybe _you_ should be Spectre-2.”

A frown line appeared between her eyebrows. “Why is that?”

“Well...you’re the one with all the contacts and all that. Better let the guy who doesn’t know anything pretend to be the leader. If they think I’m the leader, and I’m captured, I won’t be able to tell them anything because I don’t know anything. You know?”

Hera rubbed her lower lip thoughtfully with one finger, and Kanan wondered- not for the first time, or the last- what it would be like to kiss her. Unfortunately, when she looked up at him again and caught the admiring look in his eyes, her expression immediately assumed a mixture of wariness and exasperation.

“That’s not a bad idea…” she murmured, looking away from him.

“See? And you thought hiring me wasn’t going to pay off.”

“I never said that.”

“Maybe you never said it,” Kanan said, “but you definitely _thought_ it.”

Hera grinned. “I will neither confirm nor deny the truth of that statement.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kanan smiled back at her, and for a moment he felt something he hadn’t felt in long time- not since those miserable early days on Kaller- he felt _homesick_. Why did Hera’s smile suddenly make him long for a place to call home? He shook it off. Nothing a strong drink couldn’t fix. “Let’s go get rid of those cluster bombs and get our credits, Spectre-2.”

Hera swiveled her chair and began flipping switches, firing up the _Ghost’s_ engines.

“Copy that, Spectre-1.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought this would be fun to write. Kanan must have known that Hera was into something from pretty early on, I would imagine- he's not an idiot- and I wanted to explore a little bit about what he thought about that. She was never going to tell him, as we know. I'm going to be re-working this fic to be more in line with season four, and her mission plays pretty heavily into that. But I just can't see him getting too worked up over it, based on how he was in "A New Dawn". I think he probably would have figured that whatever she was involved in was fairly small- as we saw in season two, he clearly was not expecting it to be a huge military operation. And given his background and disposition during this time period, plus the fact that it's really early on in their relationship and he doesn't know her that well, I feel like he'd look at Hera as being sort of naive. Of course, that changes, and I think understanding where Hera is really coming from is probably a part of Kanan's personal growth and of feeling like he has a purpose again.


	4. Hera's New Partner

Hera Syndulla had never had a partner before, unless she counted Chopper, but she preferred a partner who was a little less generous with the verbal abuse. 

And, so far, Kanan Jarrus was as good a partner as she could've hoped for.

It had been a strange adjustment, living with a man aboard a small ship, but she supposed it could have been a whole lot stranger. Getting along with Kanan in close quarters was relatively painless, and it was a nice bonus that he was easy on the eyes. He clearly found her equally pleasant to look at, and if mutual physical appreciation was all there was to it, that would've been just fine. Hera had worked with men she'd found attractive before. She'd even gotten involved with one or two- after the job was done, of course- but no one had really ever been able to match her pace.

Kanan was a different story. He was always there when she needed him, and sometimes he was there when she didn't even know that she needed him. His wry wit kept her smiling, even when things were looking really rough. They'd developed a communication style of sarcastic banter that kept their often tedious existence from spiraling into depressing boredom. He was never predictable, and he was always able to keep up with her; sometimes, he even managed to get a step ahead. He had a sharp, agile mind that made him an ideal partner and an even better friend.

His finer qualities made him something of a very nicely-packaged problem for Hera. Luckily, he also had plenty of not-so-great qualities that kept a reasonably sane woman like her at a careful distance. But the truth was, Hera felt inexplicably drawn to Kanan. She didn't know why she trusted him enough to bring him aboard so quickly, either, especially based on what little she knew of his background. His possible Jedi past notwithstanding, he was a hard-drinking drifter with a penchant for disappearing when things get a little too familiar or confining. He regaled her with stories of fights, cantinas, and women (she could have done with less of that last), all of which painted him as the hero. He'd made no attempt to hide who he was from her, though, and maybe that was why she trusted him so quickly. She knew there had to be a lot more to the story, and maybe someday she'd eventually get past the bombastic prologue. How many stories about cantinas could one person have, anyway? His supply seemed to be never-ending.

If he really was a Jedi, though, his potential could be almost limitless. All he needed was a purpose to bring out the best in him- and there was no better purpose than putting an end to the evil Empire.

"Unfortunately," she sighed to herself, "there's a little too much work for just the two of us."

Hera was sitting in the cockpit of the _Ghost_ , which was filled with the brilliant blue light of the hyperspace lane the ship hurtled through. She'd just finished setting up a meeting on Lothal with a contact via the HoloNet, and they were en route. She was hoping that the meeting might set up a job, because they were desperately in need of food and fuel. Just keeping things going was often a full-time job, and the hope was always that they could get paid  _and_ deal a blow, no matter how small, to the Empire. It didn't always work out quite that way, though.

Her thoughts drifted back to Kanan, as they'd been doing more and more frequently as of late. She didn't care for it. When she took him on as crew, she knew he was interested in her for more than her ship and her piloting skills. Hera liked him quite a bit; he was a lot more entertaining than Chopper. More importantly, he'd repeatedly proven himself to be a valuable asset. They made such a great team, in fact, that she'd begun to think of him as her partner (though she had yet to let him in on his status upgrade). But he had no idea that she was an operative for a burgeoning Rebellion in the works, and it had to stay that way, too. Hera had a job to do, regardless of any questionable personal interest in Kanan, and she was far too busy to be bothered with his romantic swaggering nonsense.

Right on cue, the swaggering nonsense came through the doors at her back and deposited himself in the co-pilot chair. She could tell that he was bored, and that usually meant that he was planning on annoying her while she was trying to work.

 _Might as well nip this in the bud_ , she thought. "Did you run the diagnostics on the _Phantom_?" she asked, picking up her recently abandoned datapad. It was best to look busy when dealing with a bored Kanan.

"Oh, sure. Hours ago. Hey, did I tell you about the night I got into a fight with a Wookiee at the Asteroid Belt? Surprised I survived to tell the tale. There I was, minding my own business-"

"I doubt that very much," Hera broke in. "Did you help Chop with the hyperdrive motivator?"

Kanan frowned for a moment. Hera suspected that he was used to women hanging on his every word, and she thoroughly enjoyed irritating him by doing just the opposite.

"Just finished. Hey. I just realized that I've never asked you how old you are," Kanan said, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Eighteen," Hera replied. Age had never mattered very much to her; living under the yoke of the Empire made everyone seem older than they really were, anyway.

His eyes widened. "You're only eighteen? I thought you were older than that. You're not like any eighteen-year-old girl _I've_ ever met."

Hera swiveled in her chair to get a better look at him. "And I'm sure you've met a few. Why? How old are you?"

"Twenty-two," he said. "Can't you tell that I'm an older Man of the Galaxy? A force to be reckoned with? I can't help it if eighteen-year-old girls are always trying to fly away with me in their starships."

She snorted. "More like a pain to be reckoned with."

"You're funny, Syndulla. You're the whole package, really. Great pilot, funny, gorgeous...I should be the one paying you. Speaking of that..."

"You get paid when I get paid," she said loftily. "I'm meeting one of my contacts on Lothal, and I'm hoping there's some good intel for us."

Kanan rubbed his callused hands together. "And some good credits, I hope. But Lothal? I like Old Jho's Pit Stop, but it's just about the most boring Outer Rim planet there is. And that's saying something."

Hera shrugged. "It's a good place to lie low. I'm sure you can find some trouble to get yourself into."

"Maybe. Where there's a bottle and a sabaac game, there's a way."

Hera rolled her eyes.

Kanan managed to stay quiet for all of two seconds. "So...tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up on Ryloth? Any boyfriends? Girlfriends? I'm especially interested in hearing about girlfriends."

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask a lot of questions?" Hera asked, exasperated.

His expression became guarded and tight with repressed emotion. It took him a long moment to answer. "Yeah. I've heard that before," he said, in a low tone with an edge to it.

Hera paused. Her question had obviously hit a raw spot deep in Kanan Jarrus's heart, and she was instantly curious to know the meaning of it. But something told her not to ask.

"Ryloth," she said, trying to sound breezy. "Well, you know, it's full of Twi'leks. That sort of thing."

The pained expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Has anyone ever told you that you're terrible at giving answers?" Kanan asked her, cocking an eyebrow.

"Actually," she said, "Yes. But it makes me excellent at keeping secrets."

"What if a guy wants to get to know you better, though?" Kanan asked.

"Depends on the guy. What guy?"

"Maybe this one." His gaze was getting a little too intense.

"You? I don't date crew members," Hera said, only half joking.

Mock hurt (and maybe a little bit of real hurt) filled Kanan's face. "Who said anything about dating? I mean, I'm not opposed to it. But that's not why I want to get to know you."

"Sure," Hera laughed.

"I'm serious," he said. And his tone did actually sound slightly more serious. "I took this job because I like you, Hera. But you don't give me a lot to work with."

She sighed. "Honestly, Kanan...there's not that much to tell. At least, not much that isn't depressing. I left a couple of years ago, and my father wasn't happy about that. We haven't spoken since. My mother is dead. See? It's depressing."

His face was contemplative as he looked at her. "I guess we all have depressing stories, these days."

Hera nodded. The nav computer beeped, notifying them that they were approaching Lothal. Hera took the _Ghost_ off autopilot and dropped them out of hyperspace. The green-and-blue orb of Lothal floated among the stars in front of them.

"Well," she said, "I hope we can find some work to do down there that'll hurt the Empire. That should cheer us up a bit."

Kanan grinned. "You got that right, Captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see some really terrific SW Rebels sketches, especially of young Hera and Kanan, check out this Tumblr: https://artyp0p.tumblr.com/


	5. Captain Hera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan's perspective. I'm going to do alternating POVs, mainly because there's no way I could just pick one. They're both really fun to write.
> 
> There will probably be more action at some point. Right now, I'm just enjoying hanging out with them.
> 
> Takes place about a month and a half after A New Dawn.

Kanan Jarrus couldn’t believe his luck.

Just a little over a month before, he'd been living in Okadiah Garson's flophouse and hauling explosives, and now he was living on a beautiful starship with a beautiful Twi’lek.

Really, “beautiful” didn’t even begin to cover it. Hera Syndulla was smart, funny, and made of pure durasteel. But he could have said that about a lot of the women he had met, wandering from one end of the Galaxy to the other. And he had definitely met quite a few women.

Whenever he thought about it- and he thought about it a lot- it was hard to say what made her more spectacular than any other woman he’d ever known. He had been raised by spectacular women in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, so he definitely knew one when he saw one. His master, Depa Billaba, had been a member of the Jedi High Council- not a position easily acquired by just any Jedi. Hera possessed many of the same qualities as Master Billaba and the other women of the Order: confidence, honesty, compassion, kindness. She was more than capable in a fight, incredibly resourceful, and lightning-quick on her feet. Nothing _ever_ got past her. Her resemblance (in character, at least) to his Master, and her own uniquely delightful, headstrong personality were more than enough to make her utterly charming to him. 

But it was more than that. There was just something about her that he could not resist- he was drawn to her like a magnet. Even when she was bossing him around, or making him feel like an idiot, he never seemed to mind. Well...not that much, anyway.

She was not without her failings, however.

For one thing, she refused to let him fly her ship.

He was watching her do that very thing now, weaving between the spires on Lothal as they flew towards Old Jho’s Pit Stop. She was showing off, but he could appreciate that kind of behavior, since he engaged in it so often himself. The difference was that Hera did not have a Jedi’s reflexes at her disposal. That made her skills all the more impressive.

Kanan was more than willing to let her know that she impressed him. He usually laid the flattery on with a shovel- mainly because it usually worked. But so far, complementing Hera had only earned him a fair number of eye rolls, and a few modest words of thanks. It hadn’t stopped him from trying. He was not a man easily deterred.

“Not that I want to get into it with Imperials,” he said, “but I’d really like to see what you can do against a TIE fighter.”

“Well, you never know. You may get to see that a whole lot sooner than you’d like,” she replied. Her eyes were glowing as she maneuvered the agile freighter into and out of tight spots among the spires, twisting and diving.

“I’ve never seen anyone look as happy as you do behind the controls of a starship,” he told her. He briefly considered telling her that he’d also never seen anyone as beautiful fly a starship, either, but he strongly suspected that the only reaction he’d get would be a masterful eye roll.

Hera smiled. “I always wanted to fly...ever since I was a little girl. I drove my parents crazy with it. My father knew quite a few pilots, though, and they were willing to teach me what they knew.”

“Did your parents approve of it?” Kanan asked.

“Yes and no. They worried that I would get hurt, of course. But my mother believed that I should pursue my dreams, whatever they happened to be. And my father...he approved of me learning any skills that might help liberate Ryloth.”

Hera’s expression was hard to read. But she was inclined to talk about herself for once, and Kanan decided to push his luck.

“Your father was a resistance fighter?” he asked.

Hera was quiet for a long moment, and Kanan was sure he’d pushed it too far. But then she said, “He still is. He’s _the_ resistance fighter. Cham Syndulla. Have you heard of him?”

Kanan suddenly recalled listening to Mace Windu’s stories of fighting the Separatists with Cham Syndulla on Ryloth. Mace Windu had been Depa Billaba’s Master, and young Caleb Dume had asked all sorts of questions about what it was like to be his apprentice. He recalled Master Billaba’s amusement and exasperation with the incessant questions.

Thinking of her was still very painful, and Kanan had difficulty dealing with reminders.

He had been quiet for so long that Hera turned her head in his direction. “Kanan? You there?” she asked.

Kanan blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just trying to remember where I heard his name before. I _knew_ your last name sounded familiar. He fought on Ryloth during the Clone Wars, right? I must’ve seen something on the HoloNet about him,” he lied.

Hera nodded. “Yes, he fought with the Republic against the Separatists. He’s a great leader. He’s not such a great father, though.”

“My understanding of fathers is that they’re sometimes not very good at it,” Kanan said, watching Hera start the landing cycle.

“You didn’t know your father?” Hera was trying to hide her curiosity with a nonchalant tone.

“No.”

“Mother?”

“Nope,” Kanan said.

“Where did you grow up?” Hera asked. Kanan could detect faint suspicion in her voice now. He realized that she was asking him deliberate questions about his past because of what he’d done to save her on _Forager_. She was intelligent enough to have immediately figured out how and why she had survived that collapsing catwalk. He trusted her, and knew she would never turn him over to the Empire. But he wasn’t ready to tell her about that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It was safer for her to know nothing about it, anyway.

“All over,” he answered. “Been wandering a long time.” Best to be vague, and change the subject as quickly as possible. Hera brought the _Ghost_ in for a precise and gentle landing. “Old Jho has a bottle with my name written on it. Care to join me?”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from making any new friends tonight,” Hera said slyly.

“You hook ‘em, and I’ll reel ‘em in,” he suggested, hoping to see a spark of jealousy. The truth was that he had barely even noticed any other women since meeting Hera. But she didn't need to know that.

“Tempting,” Hera said, disappointingly jealousy-free. “But I think I’ll pass. I have to meet with a contact tonight, and I have to do it alone. So I guess you’ll have to do your fishing on your own tonight. I’m sure you’ll manage.” Her voice was a little _too_ airy, he noticed, with a unwarranted feeling of triumph.

“Why all the secrecy?” Kanan asked. He didn’t like being left out.

“Never mind. You’re just going to have to get used to the fact that I have some contacts you’ll never meet. That’s part of the deal, being crew on the _Ghost_.” Hera folded her arms across her chest and gave him her most imperious Captain Hera look. It was a look he had become very familiar with since leaving Gorse.

“I don’t remember hearing any rules when I signed on,” he grumbled. “But you’re the boss.”

“That’s right!” she said. “You’re finally starting to learn. And see if you can find out anything about a job at Jho’s, will you?” She got up and walked out of the cockpit, flipping her lekku as she passed him.

Cham Syndulla’s daughter, Kanan thought. That explained a lot about her. The Twi’lek was a legend. Earning praise from Mace Windu was no small feat, either, according to Master Billaba.

He felt a sharp pain as he sat there, staring out at Jhothal. What would she think of him now?

  
Kanan didn’t want to think about his Jedi past. But he had found himself thinking of it much more often, since coming aboard the _Ghost_. He chalked it up to the lack of liquor availability involved in living and working with someone who seldom drank, and who expected him to be fully functional during daytime hours.

Night was falling on Lothal, though, and Kanan intended to do his best to forget his past for a couple of hours. He got up and made his way off the ship.


	6. The Only One Who Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About three months after A New Dawn.

Hera sat at the Dejarik table in the common room, at what was rapidly becoming a ludicrous hour, sipping her beloved caf and listening to the sounds of her shipmate returning from a lengthy five-hour foray into Garel City.

A crash and several loud thuds came from the cargo hold, followed by a string of curses.

Well, there went her carefully stacked crates. Kanan was definitely not sober. When he told her he was “meeting a contact”, he had somehow completely failed to mention that he was meeting said contact at a cantina (although she knew better than to be surprised). It was, at least, the first time in several weeks that Kanan had returned to the ship truly intoxicated. She wondered idly if Kanan’s contacts were really contacts at all, or if they were actually women who were keeping him company. Hera doubted that her own strictly platonic, frequently businesslike companionship was enough to keep a man like him completely entertained. Not that he hadn’t tried. But it didn't take long for him to realize that she was more amused than anything else by his attempts at flirting with her. She had been almost disappointed when he gave up.

She decided that she would make him clean up the crates with a hangover. Then again, she mused, punishing a Jedi with manual labor tended to be a very unsatisfying business. Knowing him, he would have them re-stacked perfectly before she was even out of her bunk in the morning.

Hera still wasn’t absolutely one-hundred-percent certain that Kanan was a Jedi- he hadn’t said anything to her or blatantly used his abilities. But nothing ever seemed to pose any physical difficulty for him. He made impossible shots with his blaster, and always avoided blaster bolts that would have hit anyone else. He was reckless to a degree that bothered even the frequently reckless Hera, likely because he knew he could be. It went well beyond what a normal person was capable of. She had recalled the incident aboard _Forager_  many times, wondering if she had been mistaken about what she'd seen. But there could really be no mistake about it; Kanan had moved an enormous, collapsing metal catwalk with a wave of his hand. She would have been killed. She _should_  have been killed. And yet, there she sat, very much alive.  

“Hera!” Kanan shouted. A pause, as he tried to sense her, or whatever it was that (probable) Jedi did. “Are you still here?”

She rolled her eyes. “Where else would I be?” she called back. “You don’t need to yell.”

Chopper grumbled from the corner, where he was working on some of the electrical components of the sublight drive. It didn’t take a lot to irritate Chopper, and he continued to make it very clear that he was still mightily irritated by the interloper. He zipped out of the room and down the corridor.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later, Hera heard Kanan yelp. "CHOPPER! If it weren't for Hera, I'd turn you into scrap metal!"

Chopper, in return, offered some choice suggestions about what he would do to Kanan, were it not for Hera.

She heard a metallic clang, followed by a second yelp from Kanan. Then she heard Chopper's version of an evil giggle, as he zoomed off to work in the bowels of the ship.

Kanan stumbled into the doorway, looking disheveled and very aggravated. His hair had escaped the usual ponytail- something she had not yet seen. The reddish-brown locks hung around and in his face, and it suited him. She felt a surge of warmth deep in her belly, but her face remained completely impassive as she sat there, regarding him with an unimpressed gaze. He looked back at her, eyes unfocused, scowling.

"Your droid," he growled. "How attached to having him around are you, really?"

"I'm pretty attached to Chopper. If you harm a single circuit in his dome, you'll be in big trouble," Hera warned.

He raised his eyebrows and a smirk crept over his lips. "Trouble, huh? I like the sound of that. What kind of trouble?"

"The kind of trouble that gets you pushed out the airlock while we're in hyperspace."

Kanan ran a hand through his hair with an arrogant grin. "I don't think you'd actually shove a handsome guy like me out the airlock."

"Try me," she said, growing irritated. Her irritation, however, had less to do with his smarmy attitude, and a lot more to do with the fact that she could not bring herself to deny that he was handsome. So what if he was? She had met plenty of good-looking men, and it had never mattered a bit. But it definitely mattered now, and that fact rankled her constantly.

Hera wasn't a very good liar, mainly because she simply couldn’t be bothered with coddling other people by telling them what they wanted to hear. As such, she was always rather bluntly honest, which had never made her very popular with the type of people who were unable to stomach the truth. That was fine with her. She extended that same level of honesty to herself, as a matter of principle, and she approached her truths with the same composure and determination that she faced everything else in her life.

There was no point, therefore, in denying the attraction she felt to this mess of a man. She often wondered what it said about her, that she wanted someone who probably needed a whole lot more than she was capable of giving. On the other hand, maybe she was just what he needed, simply because she _wasn't_ the coddling type. But she had no intention of taking on that kind of project. She had enough to do as it was.

“Well,” she said, “I thought we’d seen the last of him; it’s disappointing to find out that drunk Kanan is still as annoying as ever. And he also seems to be having some trouble staying upright, this time. Was there anything left in that cantina for the other customers to drink?”

“There was only one bottle left,” he slurred. “They’ll have to fight for it.”

“I’ll bet,” she smirked. Hera wasn't above making fun of him, but she had no intention of admonishing him for his drunken behavior. She could see that there was some deeper issue at work, and she strongly suspected that it had everything to do with his Jedi past. The Jedi were all dead- executed as traitors, the Empire's propaganda said, for plotting a coup. Hera often wondered what had happened to Kanan. How had he survived? 

When Kanan saved Hera’s life aboard  _Forager_ , her shrewd mind almost immediately calculated his value both to her, and to the small but ever-growing Rebellion that she was working for. She saw him for exactly what he was- a mess- but she also saw just as clearly what he could become. The darkness that had likely surrounded him for many years had, at its center, a bright light.

Over the three months since leaving Gorse, Hera had learned very little about the Jedi. But she had learned a fair amount about the man who called himself Kanan Jarrus. She knew that wasn’t his real name- he hadn’t needed to explain that. She would have considered him very stupid indeed, if he had been going around using his real name under the nose of the Empire, and he wasn’t stupid. On the surface, he was like many of the men she’d encountered in the Galaxy: cocky and flirtatious. She didn’t blame him. Given his abilities and looks, he had more right to that sort of personality than most others she’d met.

But in close quarters, day in and day out, pretenses can’t be maintained. Kanan Jarrus was broken and heart sick. When he thought she wasn’t looking, she had seen the sadness and loneliness in his face. He was always kind to her, always thoughtful and respectful. She trusted him more than she’d ever trusted anyone outside of her family, although she wasn't entirely sure why. And something in Hera responded to the brokenness in Kanan. She had been surprised and pleased to discover that they were forging a bond of true friendship.

Unfortunately, though, the trust and fondness that had grown between them over the past three months had a created something of a fertile soil for other things to grow, too.

She had caught him several times now, gazing at her with a look in his eyes that could only be characterized as trouble. She’d seen variations on that gaze many times before. She was, after all, a female Twi’lek. All sorts of male beings had looked at her with lust in their eyes. But the look in Kanan’s eyes was much more than that. It didn’t scare her- Hera had been through far too much in her life to be frightened by the look in a man’s eyes. It did worry her, though. Romance, aside from being inherently risky, could also be very dangerous for a couple of people trying to thwart the Empire. The Empire exploited emotional weaknesses; she had heard of wives being tortured to extract information from husbands, and vice versa. Hera had never been in love before, but if it was anything like what her parents had had together, she wondered if she would be capable of keeping her mouth shut while watching the Empire torture someone she loved. Talking wasn't really an option, though. And that made love a liability.

Hera shook herself from her thoughts. Kanan was still standing in the doorway, propping himself up with his arms splayed out, hands gripping the sides of the door. He was watching her intently.

“Want to sit? It might be better than falling down,” she suggested, indicating the bench next to her.

“I don’t fall down,” he grumbled, as he started shuffling over to the seat. He threw himself into it, sliding down until his chin rested on his chest. “Well, Cap’n Hera, I guess you’re probably pretty fragged off about me getting so drunk, eh?”

As she laughed softly, his eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t care that you get drunk, Kanan,” she said. “I care about why you get drunk.”

He nodded slowly, clearly wary of a trap. “Well, sometimes you just need a drink.”

“Sometimes you do,” she agreed. “But ‘sometimes’ seems to happen a lot, for you. You know that you can talk to me, Kanan...don’t you? I would never betray you to the Empire. I would die first.”

He lifted his chin to look at her from beneath his dark, angular brows, the drunken haze clearing a bit from his blue-green eyes. This was obviously not the type of thing he was used to hearing, and his gaze softened considerably.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Hera.”

She laughed. “I’m not surprised. People like me don’t spend much time hanging around in disreputable cantinas, if it’s not for a job. You were in the wrong place, if you were looking for someone like me.”

Kanan's smile was sad but genuine. “That’s the problem. I wasn’t looking for someone like you. I would have disappointed someone like you.”

She cocked her head to one side. “But you haven’t disappointed me, Kanan.”

“It’s hard to disappoint someone who already has pretty low expectations of you,” he offered, making a face like he had a sour taste in his mouth.

Hera chuckled. “Is that what you think? That I have low expectations of you? Hardly. I expect a lot from my crew.”

He studied her face for several moments, as if he was trying make a decision by finding the answer there. “Do you want to know about me, really?” he asked. “It could be dangerous for you, knowing too much about me. I shouldn’t even be with you, Hera. Just being around me makes you a target, too. They could torture you...they could kill you…” he broke off, wincing at the thought.

Hera’s voice took on a slight edge. “I’m not stupid. I know what the Empire does.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of how smart you are,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “It’s not like you ever get tired of making me feel like an idiot.”

She looked down at her cup of caf, still clutched in her hands, now gone lukewarm. “I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she said softly. “I think you’re much better than _you_  obviously think you are. I believe in you, even if you don't believe in yourself.”

Kanan let out a breath. She looked up. He was staring at her with vaguely baffled, incredulous expression on his face. This was someone who had not heard kind, genuine things said about him in a very long time.

“It was eight years ago today,” he murmured, barely audible.

"What was eight years ago?”

“The reason I got so drunk tonight. The explanation about what happened on _Forager._ If you really want to know, I'll tell you,” he said in a flat, exhausted voice. 

Hera didn't hesitate. "I want to know," she said.

Kanan averted his eyes, paused for a long moment, and then took a deep breath and began: “My real name is Caleb Dume.” His voice was low but clear. “I was only 14 years old, just a padawan. My master’s name was Depa Billaba, and she was more than a master to me. She was a mother, a friend. She was my hero. The clones we were with...they got an order over the comm: ‘Execute Order Sixty-Six’.”

Kanan stopped, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on his knees. He took another deep breath, and started again, staring at the floor. “Next thing I knew, my master and I were fighting off the same soldiers that we’d fought alongside, soldiers we had befriended and cared about. She told me to run.”

He looked up at Hera with tears in his eyes, and she felt her heart break for him. “Every fiber of my being was telling me to stay, not to leave her, to keep fighting, to die fighting if I had to. She said it again. Run. So I did. I ran away like a coward as they killed her.”

Hera kept her face as composed as possible, but she knew this kind of pain. She had lost her own mother at a young age. Her heart ached for him. “You weren’t a coward, Kanan,” she whispered. “She wanted you to save yourself. She wanted you to live.”

He shook his head, speaking as if in a trance, staring through her. “No. I shouldn’t have left her. But I got mine. They chased me. For a long time, I lived on the streets, eating garbage, scraps. I was dirty. No one cared about me, no one cared if I lived or died, except the clones who wanted to kill me.”

He stopped talking abruptly, staring into the past with unfocused eyes. Then he suddenly returned to himself, and sat up on the bench. “I can’t talk about this anymore,” he said. “Not tonight, anyway. I shouldn’t have even told you that much. Not only have I put you in danger, but now...what you must think of me.”

Hera sighed deeply. “It’s...it’s a tragic story, Kanan. But none of it is your fault. And you are _not_ a coward,” she said, her voice hard. “What you did on Gorse and Cynda- what you’ve done every day since then- is the exact opposite of cowardly.”

Kanan shook his head. “I’m definitely a coward. I can’t even tell you…” he stopped abruptly, looking away.

“Tell me what?” she asked, immediately wary.

He shifted his glance back to her and smiled wryly, as if laughing at himself. “I damaged a power coupling trying to fix the hyperdrive.” He looked away again, and Hera knew that was not what he had actually wanted to tell her. But it was just as well. Whatever he wanted to say, she wasn’t ready to hear it.

“I thought Jedi were supposed to be good at fixing things,” she said, grinning.

“Well, we all have our failings. Even Jedi. I’m going to bed,” he announced.

Hera got up and offered a hand. “I’ll help you get there,” she said.

“Listen, Hera. Jedi don’t fall down.”

“And partners always have each other’s backs.” She helped Kanan get to his feet, and then stuck her head and shoulders under his right arm for support.

They made it to his cabin with only a couple of stumbles, and Kanan flopped himself into his bunk.

“Glad you like me, Hera," he mumbled, looking up at her. "Even if I’m bantha fodder.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not bantha fodder. And I hope I wake up to find those crates in the hold re-stacked, just the way they were before you knocked them over.”

“I’ll do anything you ask,” he murmured, eyes closing. He opened them again suddenly, as if he’d just thought of something he had forgotten to say. “Hera. You’re the only one in the Galaxy who knows the whole truth about me.”

She must have looked surprised, because he smiled as his eyes drifted shut again. Soon enough, his breathing deepened, and he began lightly snoring.

Hera stood there, feeling very warmly indeed towards this lost soul. She had always had a need to help and protect the lost, the ones with no family or friends. That was how she’d ended up with Chopper. And joining the Rebellion? Well, that was all it was, but on a much larger scale. They were all lost and adrift, under the iron fist of the Empire.

She slipped out of his cabin and into hers, sitting down on her bunk. She rested her chin in her hand and replayed his story in her mind. She had known that Kanan was broken, that something in his past had hurt him deeply. But she hadn't suspected that it was as awful as what he'd told her. She imagined Kanan- or, rather, Caleb- the boy, terrified, living off garbage and rats, mourning the loss of the only parent he’d even known. Mourning the loss of his place in the Galaxy, and his family, the Jedi Order. He had been so young. Her vision shifted to memory, and she saw Ryloth during the Clone Wars. She painfully recalled her own mourning, as a young girl. So much suffering- for what? And here they were again, trying to start another war. Kanan knew nothing of the Rebellion, and it had to stay that way. A part of her felt incredibly guilty about that. What would he say, if he knew?

Hera curled up in her bunk and listened to Kanan's snores, knowing that she was not likely to get much sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I listen to music while writing, sometimes the same song over and over (Chuck Palahniuk also does this, apparently, so I'm not that weird). I might put those songs at the end of the chapter they helped write. In this case, "Wonderwall"- Ryan Adams.


	7. Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan's doing some thinking. Four-ish months after AND.

The ship was silent, this early in the morning.

Kanan had always been an early riser. On Kaller, after the murder of Master Billaba, he’d rarely slept at all. It was impossible to sleep when you were always listening, always watching, for your former friends who wanted to murder you, too.

As an adult, he found it difficult to sleep- until he discovered that drinking helped. The result being that entirely too many mornings had found him face down on the floor of some shady cantina or flophouse.  

But a month ago, he had told Hera about Caleb Dume. And ever since that night (which had ended in a very unpleasant hangover), he hadn’t touched a drop. There were certainly days where he wanted a drink badly, but he felt so much better and clearer without it.

His sleep, however, had not improved. So he spent the hours when he should have been sleeping trying to meditate. Or he’d work through Form III, just as his Master had taught him. For the most part, he kept his lightsaber hidden in a drawer in his cabin, but it felt good in his hands during these early morning sessions. It felt like an old friend.

Kanan told himself that he was just trying to keep himself occupied, that he was just doing what he had been trained to do from a very young age. He tried not to think too much about the implications of using his lightsaber and tapping into the Force via meditation. He was rusty, worse than he had been as a youngling. Things that had once been second nature now felt well beyond his abilities.

Meditation was particularly challenging. He was often distracted by thoughts of Hera, so maddeningly close, but still so far out of his reach. He could feel her, lying asleep, just across the corridor. 

Kanan had avoided physically using his abilities for a long time, but he had often used them to get a general sense of other people’s feelings, especially to increase his own advantage in difficult situations. When he started living in close quarters with Hera, he refrained from trying to “read” her, much as he wanted to. It felt intrusive. But living and working so closely with her made it easier to tune into her frequency, so to speak. He could often sense her strongest emotions- the ones that had an effect on her heart rate or body temperature- whether he wanted to or not. He knew, for instance, that she was physically attracted to him. He had always been able to sense that from women- a huge advantage, when you're trying to pick up a companion for the evening at your local cantina.

Something had changed in Hera, though, since the night he told her about his past. Even when he was trying to deliberately block her out, her emotions- specifically, the ones involving him- cut through his consciousness like bolts of energy through a conductor.  

That was how he knew that she had feelings for him.

He couldn’t sense, specifically, what those feelings were, and using his abilities to figure that out would have been incredibly invasive. She deserved to keep her inner world private. But he knew that her emotions were significant enough to make her uncomfortable. She never showed it, though. Always as cool as a dead star. If he didn’t admire her so much, he would have found it incredibly frustrating.

And what did Kanan Jarrus feel? He'd never been in love before, despite the rather lengthy line of women he’d run through in various cantinas across the Galaxy. He had really liked some of those women quite a bit, and in a few cases, he’d gotten very close indeed, romantically and physically. But he was never in love with any of them. And he was very sure of that now, given that he was falling in love with Hera Syndulla.

 _Jarrus, you’re an idiot_ , he thought. No woman was worth the risk of being hunted and killed by the Empire. Not even that woman.

But, oh, what a woman she was.

Her smooth green skin haunted him during his sleepless nights; he had never wanted to touch anything more in his life. And her voice...just hearing her voice did things to Kanan that no woman had ever been able to do with the full use of her entire body. She was an unbearably beautiful, incredible being, and he wanted to spend every second of his life doing tedious supply runs with her.

He sighed and gave up on trying to meditate. Several long minutes passed, as he listened to the thrum of her heartbeat in his mind. His own heart beat along with it.

There were moments, sometimes entire days, where he felt like he was slowly losing his mind. She would push by him in the passageway, complaining about something he had or had not done that wasn’t up to Captain Hera’s strict standards. She never bothered to avoid touching him as she went, leaving whatever part she'd touched tingling. He would catch a whiff of her, and the scent would stay in his nostrils all day, intoxicating him. He spent his time doing anything and everything she could possibly have wanted from him (although, if he was being honest, half the reason for that was to avoid making her angry. She was formidable when she was angry). When he looked into her shining green eyes, it made him dizzy, and a little bit short of breath.

Kanan had been a goner since first hearing her voice in the darkness on Gorse, so it wasn't entirely surprising to him that prolonged daily exposure to Hera had lead to him falling in love with her. It would have been much more surprising if he had managed _not_  to fall for her. There was no great epiphany, though. He'd been aware of his inexorably deepening feelings for her, day by day, and he never tried to fight it. There didn't seem to be much of a point. It wasn't just that she knew the truth about him, and that he trusted her completely with it- which, for him, was huge. She made him feel something he hadn't felt in a very long time: hope. And, even more than that, she made him remember what it felt like to be Jedi. The Jedi had once been the protectors of the Galaxy, the bringers of peace. With Hera, he was feeding the hungry, and keeping weapons and other materials away from the Empire- trying, in some small way, to bring peace. It felt good.

Everything about her, and everything she made him feel that he had not felt in so very long- all of it made it impossible not to love her. 

His Jedi training had taught him about the will of the Force, and he was sure that the Force brought them together on Gorse for a reason.  

But he _was_ an idiot, whether it was the will of the Force or not. He would get her killed, if he stayed with her. Or worse. If the Empire discovered him, they might use her to lure him to his death. They would torture her, and then they’d kill her, too. He could withstand torture. He wasn’t afraid to die, especially if it meant that he could save someone he cared about. But he didn’t think he could bear watching her pain, watching them break her- and, strong as she was, they _would_ break her. They broke anyone who wasn't Force-sensitive enough to withstand it. And that would break him, too.

The obvious solution to the problem would have been to leave, as he had done so many times before. But he hadn’t left. Hadn’t even considered it as an option.

He heard her cabin door swish open, and it startled him. He’d lost all track his surroundings, worrying about her. He opened his eyes to see her standing in the corridor, looking back at him.

She was already fully dressed, of course, which was disappointing. He kept hoping to catch sight of her in whatever it was she slept in. The thought occurred to him that maybe she didn’t sleep in anything at all, and he had to push that thought aside quickly. She may not have been Force-sensitive, but she seemed to sense it, regardless, when he was thinking dirty thoughts about her.

Sure enough, she was looking at him now with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “Meditating with the door wide open? Isn’t that distracting?”

“It would be, if Chopper was switched on,” he grinned.

She huffed. “Stop switching my droid off!”

“He’s annoying. And if he knows I’m meditating, he’s twice as annoying. Deliberately.”

She shrugged. “Well, then...lock the door.”

“Lock the door?” he laughed. “You know he’ll just tell the ship to unlock it so that he can get in here and zap me.”

Hera rolled her eyes. “There’s only so much I can do about Chopper. He’s his own droid. You’re going to have to make some inroads with him so that we can all have a little peace on this ship.”

“Or- here's a better plan. Do you want to hear it?" he asked innocently.

"What," she replied, too disinterested to even make it into a question.

"I can just switch him off.”

“ _Do not switch off my droid!_ ” she growled.

Kanan raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “All right! All right. I won’t switch him off,” he said. _While you’re awake_ , he thought to himself, smiling.

She gave him a look, turned on her heel, and stalked off down the passageway toward the cockpit.

He watched her go, thinking that leaving her was really just not an option.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening rec: "All I Need"- Radiohead


	8. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're just going to have to read it. But I don't think you'll regret it.  
> 4.5 months after AND.

Hera watched from the cargo bay hatch as the _Phantom_ disappeared into the Lothal twilight. The brightest stars were already twinkling in the sky above the grassy plain far outside Jhothal, where she had landed the _Ghost_. It was an area that was difficult to access without a ship, and rarely used by the locals. She could see Loth-cats leaping and pouncing in the ochre grass beyond her ship, and as she watched them with a smile, she mused that she really did like this planet quite a bit.

Kanan had only shrugged when she asked him to take the _Phantom_ into Jhothal so that she could meet a contact here. A shrug was a vast improvement on the fifty questions he would once have asked about her contacts; she had gotten tired of explaining to him that he would just have to deal with not knowing something. Not knowing things was clearly not Kanan’s preferred state, but he had gradually let up on the questions once he realized that he was never going to get anywhere by asking them.

A fast-moving, small ship appeared on the horizon; seconds later, the landing lights came on, and the ship dropped expertly to the ground. Hera was impressed. Based on what little she’d just seen, she could tell that Fulcrum was a very good pilot.

A cloaked figure walked down the ramp and started heading towards the _Ghost_ through the long grass.

Hera watched her approach with trepidation, rather than her usual level of excitement. Meetings with Fulcrum often signified that a real mission was in the works. And perhaps that was true this time, as well. But there was something else on Hera’s mind. She had been internally debating about this moment over the weeks since Kanan confirmed to her that he was, indeed, a Jedi. Would she tell Fulcrum? Should she? The discovery of a trained Jedi, even one who hadn’t completed his training, would likely be a huge boon for the ever-growing group of Rebels. But her friendship with and affection for Kanan made her feel incredibly guilty about sharing his secret with anyone else- even Fulcrum, who she trusted without reservations. Hera did not want to betray Kanan’s trust, which meant so much to her.  

Fulcrum made her way towards Hera, and as always, Hera watched her with unabashed fascination. She was a lovely Togruta woman, to be sure, but there was something about her that Hera had never been able to pinpoint. She had, at an earlier meeting on Garel, spotted something when Fulcrum’s cloak was blown open by wind. Something that looked an awful lot like two lightsabers hanging from her belt. But Hera really couldn’t be sure. She’d seen holos of Jedi, and she thought she had a pretty good idea of what a lightsaber generally looked like. But she had never seen one up close; she suspected that Kanan still had his, but he had not shown it to her. Not yet, anyway.

“Hello, Hera,” Fulcrum said pleasantly, smiling, as they moved into the cargo bay to talk. She lifted her hood off her head-tails once she was beyond being visible from the rear hatch. “It’s nice to see you again. You’ve been doing excellent work, from what I hear.”

Hera smiled back. “Thank you. Your intel is spot-on, so that’s helps.”

“I do my best,” Fulcrum said. “Speaking of best, you’ve been better than usual, Hera- not that you weren’t excellent before. I heard some reports that you’ve been working with someone for a few months now. Does he know anything?”

Hera shook her head. “No. When you recruited me, I promised you that I would never share the true purpose of these missions, or who’s directing them. Nothing other than the need-to-know details of the op. I keep my promises.”

Fulcrum laughed. “I wasn’t suggesting that you don’t! Honestly, Hera, you remind me of me, when I was your age. Very earnest.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hera said.

“It is,” Fulcrum replied. “And I appreciate your discretion more than you know. Do you trust this fellow you’ve been working with?”

“I trust him with my life. But...there’s something else that I think I should tell you about him.” Hera felt terribly guilty. Was she doing the right thing?

Fulcrum frowned slightly. “All right...go ahead.”

Hera cleared her throat. “Well...I met him when I was working on collecting intel on Vidian. On Gorse. You know all about that. What I didn’t tell you at the time was that he saved my life...a catwalk on _Forager_ collapsed and would have killed me, but he moved it away from me. Without ever touching it.” She knew that she was beating around the bush, but she was having a hard time bringing herself to outright reveal what she knew about Kanan.

Fulcrum’s interest, however, was fully piqued. “He moved it with his mind?”

Hera nodded. _It’s too late to turn back now_ , she thought. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I suspected that he’d been trained...at least to some extent...as a Jedi. He confirmed it about a month ago.”

Now Fulcrum looked- well, Hera wasn’t exactly sure how she looked. Shocked, excited, upset- it was difficult to tell. Emotions moved across her face so rapidly that it was hard to keep up. She turned away from Hera and began pacing up and down the cargo hold.

She stopped abruptly. “He told you that he was a Jedi?”

“Yes. He told me that his master, Depa Billaba, was killed by Clone troopers. Something about an Order Sixty-Six. His master told him to run, and he managed to escape. He survived by hiding who he was and what he could do,” Hera told her. She felt wracked with guilt, but she couldn’t help being fascinated by Fulcrum’s reaction to this news.

Fulcrum shuddered at the words “Order Sixty-Six”, and then she resumed her pacing. She was silent for several minutes, lost in thought. Finally, she stopped pacing and walked back toward Hera.

She was smiling.

“Hera, what’s this fellow’s name?” she asked.

“Kanan Jarrus. But that’s not his real name.”

Fulcrum nodded in approval. “Yes, I’m sure that it’s not. His real name is beside the point, and in fact, if you do know what it is, you should keep that information secret, even from me. His life depends on it.”

“I know,” Hera said.

“I also suggest that you tell him nothing about the Rebellion we’re trying to build. The Empire continues to hunt for Jedi survivors, which means that Kanan is a prime target. Therefore, if he’s captured, the entire operation is at risk. I’m sure he would never intentionally tell them anything, but the Empire is brutal. We must protect what we have built so far, at all costs. Putting an end to the Empire is bigger and more important than any one person, Jedi or not. You’ll have to keep this from him, Hera. Can you do it?”

Hera’s expression was determined. “Yes. He’ll only know what he needs to know in order to plan and complete the missions. I promise.”

Fulcrum inclined her head at Hera. “I trust you. Now I must go, though.”

Hera was surprised. “You don’t have a mission for me?”

“Things have changed, now, because of your news. I have to discuss this development with my...well, let’s just say that they’re my boss. I’ll transmit the details of your next mission once we’ve decided how to proceed. Perhaps nothing at all will change- we must protect the growing  Rebellion- but a Jedi...well, I won’t lie. We need him. Exposing him to the Empire in any way isn’t ideal, though. On the other hand, he might be capable of completing missions that are too risky for our other operatives. In any case, I’m no longer confused about the reports I’ve been getting about your recent work. You’re obviously a good team.” Fulcrum smiled.

Hera lifted her chin with pride.

Fulcrum smiled again, and then she turned and headed down the ramp, back towards her ship. A few moments later, Hera heard the engines firing up. She felt a bit deflated, as she listened to Fulcrum’s ship take off; Kanan had trusted her with his secret. She knew it was safe with Fulcrum, but she still felt as though she had betrayed her best friend.

An hour later, Hera was still in the cargo hold, sitting cross-legged on a stack of crates with her chin resting on her palm. She should have been doing something productive, but instead, she’d been sitting there waiting for Kanan to return from the Pit Stop. Everything that Fulcrum had said made sense. She just had to fix herself into that mindset. Nothing mattered but the Rebellion.

 _Kanan matters_ , _too_ , she thought. Well, he mattered to her- quite a bit. Entirely too much, lately. Hera wanted to believe that her feelings were just warm friendship, but she knew deep down that she'd been developing feelings for him. She was determined not to succumb, or to let him see it. There was just too much at stake. Fulcrum had been accurate in her assessment- Hera _was_ earnest. She had made the Rebellion her life's work, and she took it very seriously. Kanan was a huge asset. But her feelings for him could become a liability. A relationship with him with risky; it was too distracting, too easy for the Empire to use an an advantage, if they were ever captured. And she valued him far too much as a friend and partner to allow it to be compromised by foolish romance. 

She heard the _Phantom_ approaching from the north. Minutes later, Kanan was docking, and then clattering down the ladder into the hold.

He observed her sitting on the crates with one raised eyebrow. “What’re you doing, just sitting there like that? Were you waiting for me to come back?”

She suppressed an eye roll and opted to cut her eyes at him instead. “Yes. That’s what I’m doing. Waiting for you,” she said, in a very flat tone. 

“Sarcasm! I love it when you’re sarcastic, Hera. It gives me a sense of pride, that I’ve been able to bring out that side of you.”

“You bring out a lot of not-so-great qualities in me. Like annoyance,” she said.

Kanan grinned. “Annoying you keeps things from getting too dull around here, though, wouldn’t you say?”

Hera shook her head. “I could do with a lot less of being irritated by you.”

He patted her shoulder. “You’re not _that_ annoyed with me. Admit it. You’re glad I’m back. The _Phantom_ is still in one piece, and I’m completely sober.”

Hera tilted her head to one side and and shrugged. “I do agree that most of those things are plusses.”

“But not me being back.”

“That one is a mixed bag,” she said, smiling slyly.

“Please. What would you do without all this in your life?” he asked, indicating himself with his hands.

“Enjoy a lot more peace and quiet?”

“That’s Chopper’s fault.”

“Is it?” she asked. “I think you’re probably capable of being more mature than a droid.”

“Eh,” Kanan said, shrugging.

Hera laughed loudly, and Kanan beamed at her, clearly pleased with having elicited some mirth from her. She was feeling better, thanks to him, although she still didn’t like admitting to herself that he was capable of such things.

“How was your meeting?” he asked, all nonchalance.

Her smile faded a little. “It was okay. No mission for us, though.”

 “That’s strange,” Kanan frowned. “Isn’t it?”

Hera shrugged. “Fulcrum had to leave abruptly,” she said, figuring that since she had told Fulcrum Kanan’s secret, he should at least get to know her code name.

“‘Fulcrum’, huh? Well, hopefully he gives us something soon, because we’re running low on credits.”

“Yeah. Hopefully,” Hera agreed. “Anyway, I’m going to hit the sack. It’s getting late, and we need to get the hyperdrive fixed tomorrow- otherwise, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he laughed. “Nothing like spending the day working on the hyperdrive!”

“Sarcasm,” Hera said, as she jumped down from the crates and headed towards the ladder. “I just love you when you’re sarcastic, Kanan.”

Kanan’s eyes widened momentarily. “Only then, huh?” he asked.

Hera realized what she’d said, and her face grew warm, as she stood with one boot on the bottom rung of the ladder. He was looking at her with a very intent gaze. “Uhhmm...,” she stammered, not knowing what to say, and wanting very badly to escape the situation. So she turned and scurried up the ladder more quickly than she ever had in her life. “Okay, goodnight!” she practically shouted, heading down the corridor to her cabin.  

Once safely behind the closed door, she let out a laugh at her own ridiculousness. She was rarely ruffled by anything, but Kanan certainly had a way of throwing her completely off balance. Even so, she treasured his friendship more than he would ever know.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research for this one. When Ahsoka started working with Bail, Leia was a toddler, born in 19 BBY (same year as Ezra). So it was probably 16 or 17 BBY when Ahsoka started working with Bail. A New Dawn happens in 11 BBY, so Ahsoka's been at it for a few years by then. I decided that Ahsoka was the one who recruited Hera. I haven't really worked out how that happened yet, but why not? I also decided that because she was recruited by Ahsoka, she's already met her in person on a few occasions- because, again, why not? The decision to have Hera see Ahsoka's lightsabers was just wish-fulfillment. Of course, Hera would never say anything to anyone about that, so who knows if she knows, really? By season 1 of Rebels, Fulcrum knows about Kanan and Ezra, and that they're Jedi, so Hera must have told her. That opened up the possibility of this scene, which I was pretty excited about writing. Hope you enjoyed it.


	9. Intel Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after AND.

“So…what’re we supposed to be doing here, again?” Kanan asked Hera for the fifth time.

They had been crouched in a jogan fruit orchard in the Westhills area of Lothal for the past two hours. Hera peered through her nightview macrobinoculars again, scanning the landscape beyond the orchard.

She sighed heavily, for the fifth time. “Collecting intel,” she whispered. “Were you even listening to the answers, the last four times you asked me that question? And _be quiet!_ ”

“Yeah,” Kanan said in a near-whisper, “but your answer is always the same. Collecting intel on what? Jogan fruit?”

The approaching dawn lit Hera’s face well enough for him to see her scowl. She was not keen on jokes when they were working.

“No,” she hissed. “Stop being obtuse, will you?”

“It would help if you would actually tell me _something_. And you won’t even let me look through those macrobinoculars,” he groused.

“Ok, _fine_ ,” she growled. “Fulcrum is concerned about the Empire’s recent activity in the sector. There are rumors that a big weapons manufacturer may be considering establishing a facility here. Fulcrum wants confirmation.”

Kanan raised his eyebrows. “Which manufacturer?”

“Seinar Fleet Systems,” Hera answered.

He let a breath out between his teeth. “That’s a big company. I think they used to manufacture ships for the Republic during the Clone Wars.”

“They did,” Hera said. “I don’t think that we can keep them from building the facility, though. Lothalians need jobs desperately right now, and anything that brings prosperity to Lothal is likely to have planet-wide support...at least for awhile. But I’m hoping we can give them some trouble, anyway. We can at least try to keep whatever they make from ever leaving the planet.”

“That sounds good to me,” Kanan answered, looking at her. She was staring off into the fields beyond with a determined look, the faint glow of the early morning sun on the horizon lighting up her face. Her eyes shifted and met his, and their gazes locked for several very long seconds. Kanan’s heart thudded against his rib cage, and he suddenly felt quite short of breath.

Hera’s eyes widened and she looked away abruptly, raising the macrobinoculars to do another scan of the landscape. “Oh!” she gasped. “Look.”

He gazed in the direction she was looking, and he could see two ships making their way towards a uncultivated hill among the vast jogan orchards. “That looks like...some kind of souped up TIE fighter. And an Imperial shuttle? Is that what I’m seeing?”

Hera nodded. “That’s exactly what you’re seeing. Seinar is responsible for manufacturing those kriffing TIEs, and I’m guessing that’s some fancy prototype version of Raith Seinar's, the guy who originally designed them. Not sure where the shuttle came from, though. Or who might be on it. I guess I have my confirmation for Fulcrum. The Empire has been taking a lot more interest in Lothal lately, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you think it means?” Kanan asked her. She was much more interested in this kind of thing than he was.

“Bad news for Lothal,” she said grimly. “The Empire destroys every planet it touches. Lothal will be no different. They just don’t know it yet.”

“Some of them do,” Kanan reminded her.

“Not enough of them. Lothal is too far out for people here to really know what’s been going on in other parts of the Galaxy. All they know is that they’re poor and they need jobs. Most of them don’t watch anything but the HoloNet News, and that’s all Imperial propaganda. Old Jho told me that there was a group about three years ago, including the governor of Lothal, who were speaking out against the Empire’s presence on Lothal...they were all arrested and imprisoned. Since then, Jho says people here have pretty much kept their heads down and kept quiet.”

Kanan shook his head. “Not much chance of getting any help, then.”

She shrugged and glanced at him. “We make a pretty good team, all on our own. But we’ll see. Eventually, people will get sick of being pushed around, and they’re going to need someone to help them fight.”

“And you want to be that someone?” Kanan asked, looking skeptical.

Hera was peering through the macronocs again. “I can see a few people, but I can’t make any of them out. Blast it! We should have tried to get closer.” She sighed in frustration. “And yeah...I could be that someone. So could you. Definitely.”

“We can’t get any closer without exposing ourselves. But we can ask around and see if anyone knows anything. And I told you, Hera. I’m not a revolutionary.”

“I know what you told me. But you hate the Empire, don’t you?”

Kanan shrugged. “They don’t bother me that much.”

“You’ve spent most of your life avoiding them, but they don’t bother you?” Hera asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Can’t bother me if they can’t find me,” he said. “What?”

Hera was looking at him as if he was the biggest laser-brain she’d ever met. Suddenly, they both heard rustling coming from the jogan plants behind them. A Rodian’s face emerged amid the green branches and round, fragrant purple fruit.

“Hey, what are you two doing in my jogan?!”

Hera and Kanan both leapt to their feet. Hera hid the macrobinoculars behind her back with her right hand, and to Kanan’s great surprise, she grabbed his hand with her left. She grinned sheepishly.

“I’m really sorry, mister!” Hera said, her voice more girlish and higher by several octaves. “Me and my boyfriend were just looking for a quiet place to be together...you know how it is!” She giggled.

Kanan had to forcibly restrain himself from turning his head to stare at her in astonishment. She gripped his hand a little tighter, as if encouraging him to play along.

Well, if she wanted him to play along as the doting boyfriend, he was more than willing to oblige.

He flashed his most dashing grin at the farmer, who looked justifiably baffled, his iridescent eyes popping out of his green-skinned head. Kanan let go of Hera’s hand and, instead, put his right arm around her, pulling her against him. Her face almost imperceptibly changed for just a split-second, and then her features re-formed into those of a careless young woman. She put her left arm around his waist and leaned into him. Kanan was loving every second of this ruse.

“Did you steal any of my fruit?” the Rodian demanded. “What’s behind your back?”

Hera pulled out the macrobinoculars and shrugged, smiling. “We were looking at the stars.”

“Hmpff,” the farmer huffed. “Well, get going. And stay out of my orchard!”

“Sure thing!” Kanan said, letting go of Hera and reclaiming her hand. He pulled her away, back towards where she’d landed the _Phantom._

“Well, that was awkward. We stayed too long,” Hera said, once they’d gotten a decent distance away from the Rodian. “I wonder if that meeting broke up. I don’t really have anything all that useful to tell Fulcrum...” She was apparently too distracted to notice that they were still holding hands. Kanan wasn’t about to ruin it by pointing it out, though.

“You sold it pretty well. I’m impressed. I didn’t know that you’re an actress,” Kanan said.

“What? Oh, yeah, well. It’s not like I haven’t been in that situation before.”

“Getting caught collecting intel? Or getting caught with a boyfriend?” he asked, grinning.

Hera grinned back, and even better, she _still_ hadn’t let go of his hand. “Oh, getting caught with a boyfriend. My father caught me with one, once. I thought he was going to kill both of us-”

She stopped talking and moving abruptly, and she dropped Kanan’s hand. He stopped as well, and followed her gaze. They were at the end of the orchard now, about to come into the clearing by the road. Kanan immediately saw why Hera had stopped; a Stormtrooper was patrolling the area, and he was directly between Kanan and Hera and the _Phantom_.

“That’s a problem,” he whispered. Hera nodded. He thought for a few seconds, and came up with a solution, but it was risky one.  

“I think I’ve got this,” he murmured, grabbing her hand again and pulling her forward. She gave him a look that clearly asked if he had lost his mind. Maybe he had.

Kanan stepped into the clearing with Hera close behind.

“Stop right there. What are you doing here?” The Stormtrooper sounded bored, and didn’t even bother to raise his blaster.   

Kanan looked hard at the Stormtrooper. “You don’t need to know what we’re doing here,” he said in a low tone.

“Actually, I do need to know what you’re doing here, and you’re going to tell me right now.”

Kanan cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. He could feel Hera’s eyes on him. He needed to focus, so he cleared his mind and evened out his breathing. “ _You don’t need to know what we’re doing here_ ,” he said, waving his hand in front of the Stormtrooper.

“I don’t need to know what you’re doing here,” the Stormtrooper said, his voice distant.

“ _You can be on your way_ ,” Kanan said.

“You can be on your way,” repeated the Stormtrooper.

Kanan and Hera walked past, moving quickly. Once they were well out of earshot, Hera looked over at him with wide eyes. “That was a Jedi mind trick! You just did a Jedi mind trick,” she said, a little breathlessly.

Kanan inclined his head. “Guilty as charged. I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull it off.”

“It was pretty wizard,” she said. Then she frowned. “I wonder what that Stormtrooper was doing, so far away from Capital City? I wonder if it had anything to do with that meeting we saw.”

“I’m guessing it did. But I don’t know what. Maybe he was patrolling for spies?”

“Maybe,” Hera said thoughtfully. “Or maybe he was backup. If they’re going to build a ship manufacturing complex, they’re going to need a lot of space. I bet that they’re trying to get the farmers to sell their orchards, and they’re using Stormtroopers as added incentive.”

They were approaching the _Phantom_ now, which Hera had expertly landed in a small clearing in the middle of a copse of spine trees.

Kanan scratched at his beard. “I’m assuming we’re going to have to investigate?”

They boarded the small ship, and Hera fired up the engines while Kanan folded down one of the seats in the back and sat down. “Yep,” she said. “We’re definitely going to have to investigate. And I’m definitely going to have to come up with a better cover story than boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Kanan wasn’t sure how to respond. From her tone and nervous energy, though, he suspected she was just saying that to give the appearance of nonchalance.  “I thought it was pretty good,” he said. “We probably make a good-looking couple, too.”

Hera snorted as she eased the _Phantom_ straight up, out of the trees. “That Jedi mind trick thing could come in _very_ handy,” she said, avoiding further conversation about what kind of a couple they might be. “Can you do that to anyone?”

“No. There are some species it doesn’t work on, and it doesn’t work on anyone with a strong mind. So, unfortunately, it wouldn’t work on you.”

“You would use it on me?!”

Kanan laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

“I should kick you off this ship,” Hera said. “While we’re in the air.”

“You won’t, though,” Kanan said. “I’m too useful. Which is the only reason you keep me around.”

She made a huffing sound, but he couldn’t see her face.  “Well, that, and you keep me from getting bored occasionally.”

“I knew it!” he said, laughing. He wondered, for the billionth time, if she was ever going to acknowledge what was going on between them. She seemed pretty determined to ignore and deny it, though, and maybe she was right to do so. They both knew the risks. And he wasn’t saying anything forthright about it, either, was he? For his part, though, it was more of a case of not wanting to upset the meiloorun cart.

Hera wasn’t kicking him off the _Ghost_. She wanted him by her side, at least as a good friend and partner. As difficult as it was to be with her every day, and not be able to touch her or kiss her, it would have been even harder _not_ to be with her every day, period. So he dealt with his feelings as best he could. He channeled them into working on the _Ghost_ , or meditating, or planning ops, or lightsaber work. If he couldn’t share his feelings with her, at least he could use them to do things that could benefit her.

He felt, though, that she would not be able to ignore her own feelings forever. One day, Hera Syndulla was going to admit to herself that she was in love with him. Maybe, he hoped, she would even admit it to him. And on that day, let the consequences be damned.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research on Lothal for this chapter because, as it turns out, I actually am sort of curious about what was going on in the Galaxy in 11 BBY. And on Lothal in particular, because that's the Spectres home base. The information I found was confusing, but basically, Ezra's parents got arrested in 14 BBY, along with Ryder Azadi, so the Empire had been up to no good there for a little while. Otherwise, this is sort of a fluff chapter.


	10. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven months after AND.

“Spectre One to _Phantom._ I need a pickup!”

“Copy that, Spectre One. I’m on my way. Two minutes,” Hera said into the comm. Was that blaster fire she’d just heard? The op should have been an easy one. All they'd needed to do was steal a single, small crate from the Imperial Mining Institute; the mission had come directly from Fulcrum. Hera had no idea what was in the crate, but she figured it must be something pretty important.

“Any way to speed that up at all?” Kanan demanded.

That was definitely blaster fire. Hera accelerated to top speed. “What’s going on, Spectre One?”

“Oh, not too much. I’m just pinned down in an alley with a wall at my back and ten Stormtroopers blocking the only exit,” he said. Not too surprisingly, he only sounded mildly ruffled by his current situation. Hera  _was_ concerned, however, and she pushed  _Phantom's_ engines to maximum power.

“I’ve got eyes on you,” she said, coming up on the alley his comm locator was pinging on the scanner. A few of the Stormtroopers spotted her and started blasting. She eased the small ship just out of range of the bolts, hovering while she sized up the situation. It would be tight- _really_ tight- but she thought she could pull it off.

Kanan had wedged himself, and the crate he’d nicked from the Mining Institute, behind a large metal garbage receptacle in the corner of the alley. He probably could have scaled the wall easily, if not for the heavy fire. He’d managed to take out a couple of the Stormtroopers, at least.

“Okay, Spectre One, I’m coming in,” she said, watching as he stepped briefly out from behind the garbage receptacle and took out another trooper.

“Negative, Spectre Two. There’s too much fire, and you won’t fit.”

“Watch me,” Hera responded, flipping _Phantom’s_ tail around so that it was lined up with the rear hatch facing Kanan. She pushed gently on the yoke, dropping down into the alley with only centimeters to spare on either side. Blaster bolts were pounding the little ship. She punched the button that opened _Phantom’s_ rear hatch, expecting Kanan to immediately jump in. He did not.

Not good.

Hera’s first priority was to get the Stormtroopers off them, regardless of whatever was going on with Kanan. She fired _Phantom’s_ twin cannons into the line of bucketheads, taking out two more, and the rest scattered into the street beyond. They would be back.

Where was he?

“Blast it, Kanan, _MOVE!_ Where are you? We need to get out of here!” she yelled over her shoulder. She was starting to get really worried.

The crate he’d stolen came flying through the hatch, hitting the floor hard and skidding into a stop at the back of Hera’s seat. She breathed a sigh of relief. That was a good sign. At least he was alive.

Kanan finally stumbled in, clutching his side. She punched the button to close the hatch, and was in the air a second later, flying towards the _Ghost_.

Hera glanced quickly back at Kanan, who was sitting in one of the jump seats, hunched over.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. Just sit tight, okay?” she told him. She depressed the comm button. “Chop, get the _Ghost_ ready. We’re docking and then jumping, doesn’t matter where.” She glanced at the scanner. “I have two TIE fighters in pursuit.”

Chopper grumbled acknowledgment.

The _Phantom_ shook with a blast from one of the TIEs. Hera evaded them, diving and weaving, trying to make it impossible for them to get a shot- something she was very good at. Green bolts of canon fire shot past the _Phantom_ , missing every time.

The comm beeped, and Hera looked up. The _Ghost_ was far above, just below cloud cover. She pulled into a steep ascent and climbed towards the clouds, following the _Ghost_  into them _,_ disappearing. Within a couple of minutes, they'd managed to completely lose the TIEs. Hera mused that it was lucky they weren't very good pilots. Chopper slowed, allowing her to dock. As soon as the _Phantom_ was locked in, she felt the _Ghost_ jump into hyperspace.

Hera sprang out of her seat and grabbed the first aid kit. Kanan’s eyes were closed, and he was pale, breathing shallowly.

She had trouble speaking for a second. “Kanan...are you all right?” Her voice sounded weak and trembly to her own ear cones.

“I've never been better," he said with a faint smile, and opened his eyes. “I’m okay, Hera. It’s just a graze...don’t panic. But that hurt.”

“I’m not _panicking_ ,” she grumbled, dropping to her knees next to him. “Take off your shirt.”

His smile got wider. “Interestingly enough, this is _exactly_ how I pictured it in all my daydreams about you.”

She scowled as she helped him peel off his green tunic. She could feel Kanan’s eyes on her as she studied the wound on his left flank, trying to avoid looking at the rest of his finely muscled torso. He was right; it was just a graze.

“See? It’s not that bad,” he told her.

Hera ignored him and unhooked the latches on the first aid kit with her thumbs, pulling out a bacta bandage of the appropriate size. She slapped it against the wound with some force, deliberately, and he winced. A moment later, he let out a sigh as the bacta’s cooling sensation began to take effect. He started easing himself back into his tunic, eyes still fixed on Hera’s face.

Hera smacked the lid of the first aid kit down and latched it closed. She could hear her heart pounding inside her own head, and she finally realized that she was utterly and completely furious.

“What happened back there?” she demanded, glaring at him, her expression thunderous. “You should have been in and out of there! What happened?”

Kanan’s eyes widened at the fury in her voice. “I don’t know, Hera. Moving the crate must have tripped some kind of silent alarm that Fulcrum’s source didn’t know about. I’m not really sure why you’re so angry about it, though. How was I supposed to know that there was an alarm?”

“You should be looking for things like that!” she spat. “You should know better! Mistakes like that get people killed!”

“You really don’t need to shout. The closest planets can probably hear you.” 

“I guess you’re not hurt that badly, if you’re making idiotic jokes,” Hera growled. “Take care of your own wound. I have better things to do.” She jumped to her feet and started to move towards the hatch.

Kanan stood, grimacing with pain, and grabbed her arm. “Hera...I’m sorry.”

She raised her eyes and met his blue-green gaze, and the fight went out of her. He looked both very contrite, and very confused. Something in his expression tugged hard at her heart, and she felt the barrier she'd built between herself and her feelings for him give way. Before Hera even knew what she was doing, she had grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and pulled him towards her, planting her lips firmly on his.

She felt him freeze against her, in what was presumably a significant amount of surprise. A half-second later, he realized what was happening, and he very enthusiastically kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her.

His lips slipped and tugged against hers. He caught her bottom lip between both of his, and an electrified shiver shot through her; she pressed against him, dizzy. The kiss went on for what felt to Hera like several beautiful, amazing days, and she didn't want it to end. But eventually she began to feel like she was going to pass out, and she distantly recalled that breathing was a necessity. She broke the kiss and pulled back slightly. Their faces were still very close together, their lips almost touching. They were both breathing hard.

Hera tightened her fingers in his shirt and opened her eyes. He was looking back at her, happily dumbfounded.

She abruptly released his shirt and took a step back, forcing him to let her go. "I shouldn't have done that," she said in a low voice.

Kanan looked at her quizzically. "Yes, you definitely should have done that. Why not?"

Hera shook her head. "You know why not. This can't happen. I'm...we're too busy. It's risky. What if you're stupid like you were tonight, and you get yourself killed? What am I supposed to do, then, Kanan?" Hera's voice had been steadily rising again, and her anger was returning. Such a strange reaction. What was the matter with her? It felt like a Ryloth sandstorm was tearing through her entire body.

"Are you going to start shouting at me again?" he asked. The expression on his face was so full of his feelings for her that she backed up another step, regarding him warily. 

"Maybe," she grumbled.

Kanan impulsively grabbed her hand. "Hera..." he said, gazing at her. 

Her eyes widened. "Whatever you're going to say, don't."

Kanan studied her face for a long moment. He let go of her hand, and she saw a brief flash of hurt in his eyes...and then his expression returned to neutral.

"Okay, Hera. Maybe another time," he said calmly, sounding as if he was talking about getting turned down for a dinner date.

Hera's eyebrows shot up. "What? That's all you have to say?"

"I'm a former Jedi padawan. I know how to be patient," he said. The heat in his eyes had cooled; she supposed he was telling the truth. He cleared his throat and looked away from her, turning towards the crate that had caused them so much trouble. 

"Let's take a look at what's in this little crate that's so important. There's something odd about it..." He went over to it and, wincing a little, hefted it up onto the seat he'd recently vacated.

Hera frowned, dazed by his abrupt change of subject. "Uh...Fulcrum didn't tell me to open it," she said, thinking that she sounded awfully stupid. The last few minutes had been some of the most confusing of her young life, and she didn't quite know how to even begin processing everything.

Kanan, meanwhile, appeared largely unperturbed. He waved his hand over the lock on the crate, and it popped open. He lifted the lid and peeled back the protective coverings, and then he sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh,” he said.

“Oh?” Hera moved to stand next to him, and she peered down into the crate. “Are those….? What are those?”

The crate was full of small crystals of various shapes, all carefully ensconced in protective foam. They glinted and winked in a very peculiar way.

Kanan was silent for several seconds, seemingly mesmerized. Then, finally: “They’re kyber crystals.”

Hera wasn’t familiar with the term. “Kyber?”

“They’re the crystals that powered the Jedi lightsabers. They resonate with the Force. When I was a youngling, I went to a cave on the planet Ilum, and I found mine. It called to me.” He looked up at her. “I don’t know why your pal Fulcrum would want them, though.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, either. I suppose to keep them out of the Empire’s hands for some reason. The Jedi used them for weapons...maybe that’s what the Empire wants them for, too.”

Kanan replaced the coverings, closed the lid, and locked the crate. “If that’s true, it’s bad. These crystals are extremely powerful. I remember learning that the Sith used them to create superweapons.”

“The Empire aren’t Sith, though,” Hera said.

Kanan brow creased with a frown. “I certainly hope not.”

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Empire was mining kybers on Lothal. So here there are, with a lot of heavy-handed foreshadowing. This one is Hera's POV because I really felt like she was going to have to be the one who made the first move. Kanan's a noble type of guy; I couldn't really see him trying to make a physical move on her. Plus, Hera runs the show. She calls the shots. If they're going to get involved with each other, it would be entirely her decision to make- or not make. Filoni has said that Kanan is a "very deep-feeling character". And I don't think it's that Hera doesn't feel things deeply, but she's better at seeing the big picture. Unlike Kanan, she actually knows what the big picture is (the future Rebellion), and she's pretty focused on that. I think she would definitely see her feelings as more of a distraction, and be annoyed by them, and try to keep them tamped down for as long as possible. But I don't think that means she doesn't feel the same way about Kanan that he does about her- that's pretty obvious in season 2. 
> 
> I feel a little bit frustrated about that smooch, but I really can't make it too easy on these two. That would be boring. It's probably going to get tougher for them before it gets easier, too.


	11. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory on one of our young heroes.

RYLOTH, 13 BBY.

 

“Hera.”

Hera Syndulla paused, wrench in hand, at the sound of her father’s voice. Through her goggles, she could see his lower legs and feet, but the rest of him was blocked by the bulk of the V-wing she was working beneath.

“Yes, Father?”

“Come out from under there,” Cham ordered. He sometimes forgot that he was talking to his daughter, rather than one of his freedom fighters. “We have a visitor.”

Hera sighed and put the wrench down, shimmying her way out from under the V-wing. Cham was looking down at her with his arms folded across his chest.

“What visitor?” she asked, grabbing the wing of the ship with one gloved hand, and pulling herself to her feet.

Cham looked disapprovingly at her dirty flight suit. His feelings towards her dreams of being a pilot had become increasingly ambivalent since the death of Hera’s mother.

“An emissary of Senator Organa of Alderaan,” Cham said, voice lowered. “She cannot stay long. Follow me.” He turned and strode out of the hangar.

Hera followed dutifully. Her father was trying to groom her as a future leader of Ryloth, and her frequently expressed desire to see the Galaxy and fight the Empire on a larger scale had a sparked a number of unpleasant fights between father and daughter. Hera agreed with Cham- freeing Ryloth _was_ important. But she couldn’t make him understand that Ryloth would never be free, as long as the Empire existed. To him, Ryloth was all that mattered. It mattered more to him than she did.

When Hera reached her father’s office, her eyes were instantly drawn to their family portrait on the wall. She missed her mother, who had always understood that Hera’s heart was in the sky and in the stars. Things had been so difficult without her.

A cloaked and hooded figure stood in front of Cham’s desk, facing the portrait. Cham walked behind his desk, but did not sit, regarding the visitor cooly.

He indicated Hera. “This is my daughter, Hera.”

The cloaked figure turned towards Hera and pulled back her hood, revealing striped lekku. A Togruta woman. She looked at Hera with kind blue eyes.

“Pleased to meet you, Hera. I go by the name Fulcrum.”

Cham had little time for pleasantries. “What can I do for Senator Organa today?”

The Togruta flashed a quick smile at Hera and turned back towards Cham. “I’ve come to ask for your help. Senator Organa recalls that you were once an ally of the Republic, and he asks you to consider becoming his ally now.”

Cham frowned. “Senator Organa is a member of the Imperial Senate. Why would I become his ally?”

Fulcrum cleared her throat. “I’m risking a great deal by coming to Ryloth to speak to you, and I ask that the information I’m about to tell you never leaves this room. Senator Organa trusts that you are no friend of the Empire, and will not betray him.”

Cham’s face was unreadable. He said, “If what you have to tell me will harm the Empire, I would rather die than expose it.”

Fulcrum nodded, appeased. “Senator Organa is no friend of the Empire, either. He maintains his position in the Senate as a cover, and as a way to keep tabs on what the Empire is doing. Secretly, he is attempting to form an alliance of those who oppose the Empire, in the hopes that we may someday build a Rebellion big enough to defeat and destroy it.”

Hera felt suddenly electrified, as if her dream had just become a reality. Surely her father would agree to join this Alliance? She waited for his response, barely able to contain herself.

Cham was silent for several long moments. He folded his arms across his chest, gazing steadily at Fulcrum.

Finally, he spoke. “I support the Senator’s efforts against the Empire, but my place is here on Ryloth. Freeing the people of Ryloth is all that matters.”

Hera was astonished. “Father!” she said, no longer able to remain silent.

“I understand and admire your devotion to your people. But as long as the Empire exists, they will suffer,” Fulcrum calmly said. “Please take some time to consider your decision.”

Hera could see that her father was growing irritated, as he often did when anyone challenged his single-minded purpose. “We _will_ liberate Ryloth!” he said, his voice terse. “I will not have my people distracted from our liberation movement by some foolish rebellion that may never occur. Ryloth is here, and it is now.”

Fulcrum sighed. “I understand. If you change your mind, you’ll always be welcome to join us.”

She bowed her head towards Cham, and turned, lifting her hood over her lekku as she walked toward the door. She glanced briefly at Hera as she passed.

After Fulcrum had gone, Hera turned to stare in disbelief at her father. “How could you do that?!” she demanded.

“Ryloth is more important than anything else, Hera,” he said. “The people need us. We cannot concern ourselves with the needs of the entire Galaxy.”

Hera growled incoherently and stormed out of the office, unable to look at her father anymore. A thought occurred to her suddenly, and she bolted off down the hall, hoping she could catch the Togruta woman before she left.

She skidded around a corner and almost plowed directly into the cloaked woman, who was standing in the middle of the corridor, waiting. Fulcrum neatly sidestepped Hera, and then grabbed her arm to keep her from stumbling.

“I was waiting for you,” Fulcrum said. “I had a feeling you’d be along.”

“I’m glad you were. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” Hera asked.

“Of course. Why don’t we step into this supply closet and have a chat?” Fulcrum suggested, indicating a door to her left. She moved to the control panel for the door and pressed the button to open it, peering into the dim interior stacked with boxes. “It’ll be cozy, but it’s a little more private.”

The two women wedged themselves into the closet, and Hera closed the door. “You’ll have to excuse my father,” she said. “He hates the Empire, but he’s obsessed with freeing Ryloth. Nothing else matters to him.”

Fulcrum smiled at her. “It makes sense. I know his history, and how long he’s fought for the people of this planet. It’s easy to become so focused on your own belief system that you are completely unable or unwilling to see the bigger picture. He would have been an asset to the Rebellion. Maybe someday, something or someone will change his mind.”

She paused, noting Hera’s flight suit. “But we would be very happy to have the help of his daughter, particularly if she has some skill as a pilot. We need good people with leadership skills, and we need those people to find other good people. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

Hera grinned. “That’s something I’ve been interested in my whole life. Sign me up.”

Fulcrum smiled back at her. “Excellent. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you. What do I do now?” Hera asked, her brow creasing.

“Well, first and most important, you must keep everything you’ve learned and seen today a secret. You must never tell anyone anything about myself or Senator Organa, or what we’re trying to do. Both our lives will be forfeit if we’re discovered. Most likely, yours would be, too.”

Fulcrum studied Hera’s face, perhaps looking for signs of weakness. Hera, at the ripe old age of sixteen summers, had few weaknesses...and she _never_ showed them. She raised her chin and returned Fulcrum’s gaze.

“I’ll protect what I know with my life,” she said.

“Let’s hope it never comes to that. What would you like to do, Hera?”

Hera didn’t hesitate. “Leave Ryloth. Fight the Empire,” she said, with an edge to her voice.

“Fighting the Empire openly will, I hope, come in time”, Fulcrum replied. “But for now, we move in the shadows, unseen and unnoticed. What we need are good people and good intel. We need to know what they’re doing and where they’re doing it, and if we can, we’ll try to stop them. How would you leave Ryloth? What would you do? How will you support yourself and live? Do you have a plan?”

Hera realized that she had given these questions less attention than she should have. Her re-built Clone Wars-era V-wing was big enough for her and Chopper, but the practicalities of daily life hadn’t concerned her much. “I have a ship. I suppose my droid and I can just go from place to place…” she said, suddenly uncertain. She didn't like sounding like a naive child. 

Fulcrum's eyes twinkled. “I have no doubt that you’re smart and capable enough to survive that kind of life, but we all need credits to get by. I know some people who might be able to give you a job.”

“As a pilot?” Hera asked, her eyes lighting up at the thought.

Fulcrum laughed gently. “Maybe not as a pilot, right away. But maybe as a co-pilot. Out there in the Galaxy, you have to earn your stripes, Hera- even if you’re already a good pilot. But I can at least introduce you to some like-minded people who might be willing to give an untested pilot like yourself a shot. Should I contact them?”

“Absolutely,” Hera said, feeling very excited indeed. “Thank you, Fulcrum.”

“You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to working with you, Hera. I think we can expect great things from you. You’ll be hearing from me soon.”

Fulcrum smiled again at Hera and pressed the button to open the storage room door, slipping out into the hall and striding away, her cloak billowing as she walked. Hera watched her go, feeling a bit like she’d been trampled by a Blurrg.

What was she going to tell her father?

A week later, Hera was still unsure of the answer to that question. Fulcrum had contacted her with a name: Krysiant Rheden, captain of a YT-209 freighter called _Eclipse_. Captain Rheden was looking for a co-pilot, and she was willing to give Hera a chance. Hera suspected, by this time, that Fulcrum had already collected whatever intel she could on Hera, in which case she knew that Hera could outfly most of the veteran pilots on Ryloth. Still, Hera had never ventured far beyond Ryloth System. She _was_ untested. Was she really ready for this?

She felt that she was. She _had_ to be. And to prove it to herself, she had to tell Cham.

Hera stood at the door of her father’s office, waiting for him to call her in. She could feel her heart pounding.

“Hera. Come in!” Cham called.

She pressed the button, and the door opened with a _swish_. “Hello, Father,” she said.

“You wanted to talk to me?” He was seated at his desk under their family portrait, working on a datapad. He did not look up at her as she walked towards the desk.

A few meters from him, Hera stopped and took a breath. She was unlikely to get his undivided attention before she said what she had to say. Better get it over with, she thought.

“Father. I’m leaving Ryloth.”

Cham looked up, his face registering only mild surprise. “What? Hera, I really don’t have time for jokes today.”

“Neither do I,” Hera said, her face set. “I was hired as a co-pilot on a freighter. They’ll be coming to Ryloth to pick me up tomorrow.”

Now Cham looked stunned. “You can’t be serious, Hera.”

“I am.”

“You would leave me? You would leave Ryloth at the mercy of the Empire?” he asked. He wasn’t angry yet, but Hera knew the storm would be coming.

“Yes, Father. Ryloth will never be free, unless the Empire is destroyed. I’m going to help destroy it.”

Cham’s prominent brow furrowed, and his lekku stiffened in irritation. “I need you here. I need you to help me liberate Ryloth. What would your mother say?”

Hera scowled. “Mother would have said that I need to follow my heart. She would have said that I’m right.”

“Your mother loved Ryloth! She would never have abandoned its people to go running off on some damn fool adventure that would have probably gotten her killed!” His voice was getting louder, now, and his eyes were blazing. He slammed his palm against the desk in frustration.

“I have to fight. I have to! Ryloth has suffered for too long under the Empire’s oppression. But so have other planets, all over the Galaxy! None of us will ever be free, if we don’t fight!” Hera’s accented voice was rising to match the volume of Cham’s.

He looked furious. “We _will_ free Ryloth! With or without you!” he shouted.

“Without me, then,” Hera said, now in a quiet voice. Her heart ached.

Cham glowered at her from across the desk. He folded his arms across his chest.

“If you abandon your father...if you abandon your people...you need not ever return to Ryloth,” he said, slowly, as if every word tasted bitter on his tongue.

Hera stared at him, aghast. “Are you disowning me?” she asked.

“This is your choice, Hera,” Cham said evenly. “If you can choose to leave, we can choose not to recognize you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Hera said, balling her hands into fists at her sides to keep them from trembling.

He turned his back on her, staring at the portrait of himself with his wife and young daughter, and didn’t answer her.

Hera stood there in his office, paralyzed in a moment of indecision. But she knew him better than anyone, and she knew that his stubbornness was truly unparalleled. He would never relent.

She heaved a heavy sigh. Her choice was already made. “Goodbye, then, Father,” she whispered.

Hera turned and walked out of his office, and towards her new life among the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to The Imperial Talker for giving me this brilliant idea!


	12. The Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks back up seven months after AND, right after the events in "The Rescue".

The pain in Kanan’s wounded side and in his lovesick heart throbbed in unison. Hera had avoided looking at him as she mumbled some excuse about needing to go check on Chopper, and she’d quickly slipped out of the _Phantom_ and disappeared into her ship. He let her go without saying anything. There wasn’t really anything to say, if she was determined not to say the things that mattered.

But he could sense how tumultuous her feelings were, and he could accept the possibility that her feelings weren't as clear to her as his were to him. He just hoped that she wouldn’t decide to shut him out.

His lips still tingled from her kiss.

Kanan hefted the crate of kyber crystals, bitterly grateful for the distraction of the flare of pain in his flank, and climbed down the ladder into the cargo bay. He placed the crate gently on the floor. The crystals within didn’t call to him the way his own had, but he could feel them through the Force.

The Gathering, Master Yoda had called it. He remembered going to Ilum with his friends Sammo and Tai to find their kyber crystals. And then, later, Master Billaba took him to find a replacement, after his original lightsaber was destroyed during the confrontation with Rackham Sear at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Kanan reminded himself that it was very likely Sammo, Tai, Master Yoda, and every other Jedi he'd ever known were all long dead; as always, the thought was like a punch to the gut. He had spent so much time trying not to think about his past that, whenever he did, the loss and subsequent pain of his former life still felt relatively fresh. The Jedi Temple and its denizens had been his home and his family.

For the first time since that terrible day on Kaller, Kanan felt that he belonged somewhere. But the feeling of belonging ineludibly carried with it the fear of loss.  

Kanan recalled Master Billaba’s words to Caleb Dume on Mygeeto: “There will be loss- inevitable loss, painful loss. But that must not prevent the true Jedi from taking risks...from surrendering oneself to a higher purpose.”

What higher purpose was there than love? Granted, the Jedi had warned against potentially perilous emotional attachments, but Kanan hardly considered himself a Jedi. And as far as he knew, he was the sole survivor of the Jedi Purge. The most powerful peacekeeping force in the Galaxy had managed to get itself completely wiped out; clearly, mistakes were made. To Kanan's mind, there was no sense in following the old, and possibly very wrong, tenets of an Order that had been almost entirely eradicated within the space of a few hours. 

He reached out with his feelings, searching for Hera. Her emotional storm continued to rage, but she was calmer than she had been. Knowing her, she was probably trying to distract herself with menial tasks. There was always something that needed doing on the _Ghost._

Distraction seemed like a good idea to Kanan. He climbed out of the cargo bay and headed towards his cabin. When he reached it, he paused, looking towards the cockpit. The door was closed. Kanan sighed and pressed the button to open his cabin door. He went to the drawer where he kept his lightsaber hidden, and took it out. The feel of the hilt in his hand was comforting. He headed back to the cargo bay, the only place on the ship with enough space to practice Form III.

Kanan’s mind was whirling, and he knew that an attempt at trying to be still and meditate would likely be futile. He needed to be in motion. Previously, he’d only practiced with his lightsaber when Hera was asleep, but now that he thought about it, he didn’t know why he’d been hiding it from her. Old habits died hard, he guessed.

Form III, or Soresu, was the form that Master Billaba had preferred, because it was the form that adhered to the Jedi philosophy of fighting for defense only. Soresu was meant to be the calm at the center of conflict, and he had once heard Luminara Unduli say that a true master of Form III was invincible. His Master may have practiced a defensive form, but she had been a formidable warrior- Jedi weren't invited to join the High Council for mediocrity.

The lightsaber hummed to life in Kanan’s right hand, vibrating reassuringly against his palm, and the blue light lit up the cargo bay. He assumed the first position, drawing his right elbow and right foot backwards and extending his left hand and foot. He closed his eyes and began moving through the Form, attempting to achieve a meditative state. He saw many things, in his mind’s eye; memories of his Master, of his life in the Jedi Temple, of his time working with Janus Kasmir. Then, suddenly, he saw something he had never seen before: Hera, older than she was now. Kanan recognized the cockpit of the _Ghost_. But Hera’s face, her eyes- they were full of unbearable sadness and pain. He could _feel_ the brokenness inside her.

All at once, Kanan returned to himself. He was panting, still clutching the lit lightsaber in his sweaty palm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a Force vision. And this one…he didn’t know the reason for the pain in Hera’s face, but the stabbing ache in his pounding heart was sharp and brutal as he recalled it to mind. The wound on his flank burned, as if trying to match his emotional agony.

“Kanan?” Hera said.

Kanan looked up. Hera was standing on the deck above the cargo hold, her hands resting on the railing as she looked down at him with concern.

“Are you okay? You look like you just ran into a rancor.”

He was still breathing hard. His mouth had gone dry, and he licked his lips and swallowed hard. He shut off his lightsaber with a _zzzzzzzswish_. “I don’t know. I just saw…I don’t know. I don’t know what I saw.”

She was frowning. “What do you mean, you ‘saw’?”

Kanan shook his head. “I don’t know. I had a Force vision, but I don’t know what it meant.”

“A Force vision? What is that? What did you see?” Hera asked.

“I don’t really know how to explain it well, but it can be a vision of the past...or the future. They’re nearly impossible to interpret. I haven’t had one in a long time.”

Hera face continued to look troubled, and Kanan saw her face in his vision again, so much the same as the face he saw now, and yet so different. Future Hera’s eyes had burned through his soul.

“What did you see?” she asked him again.

“You.” His voice sounded tight with hurt, to his own ears.

Hera paused, taken aback. “Me? Doing what?”

“You weren’t doing anything.”

Her brow creased. “If I wasn’t doing anything, then why do you look like you’re going to throw up?”

Kanan couldn’t dispute what she saw in his face. He _did_ feel a bit like throwing up, so she wasn’t wrong.

“I’m all right,” he lied. “You weren’t doing anything. I don’t know what it meant. Like I said, Force visions are really hard to interpret. Don’t worry about it.”

For a moment, Hera looked like she was planning on pursuing it further, possibly just because she didn’t like being told what to do. But instead of arguing, all she said was, “I’m glad to see that you still have your lightsaber. I thought you might.”

Kanan glanced down at the hilt in his hand. “Yeah. I couldn’t get rid of it.”

“And you still know how to use it,” Hera added, with a faint smile.

“Sort of. I remember what I learned, but I don’t think I’d be much good in a fight anymore. It’s been too long since I used it.”

“But you can practice on the _Ghost_ whenever you want,” she said. “Maybe you just need practice. I don’t know anything about lightsaber fighting, other than what I’ve seen in old Holos...but it looked pretty good to me.”

Even though Kanan knew that Hera really had no idea what she was talking about, her compliment eased some of the distress his vision had caused.

“Thanks,” he said. He gazed up at her, and she looked back, holding his gaze with her own for much longer than he expected. Normally, she would have looked away almost immediately.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly.

“How long were you watching me, anyway?”

Hera finally shifted her gaze away from his, her green skin darkening beautifully with embarrassment. “A little while,” she admitted.

Kanan smiled broadly, feeling smug. She was crazy about him, whether or not she wanted to admit it.

Hera pointedly ignored his knowing grin. “Anyway,” she said, in a louder voice that feigned a level of confidence and composure she clearly wasn’t feeling, “I came back here to let you know that I’m flying us back to Lothal. Old Jho sent a transmission- he thinks he might have a new contact for us.”

Kanan shrugged. “Sounds good. I hope no one’s looking for us when we get back, though.”

Hera nodded slowly in agreement, already starting to become distracted by her work. She loved to work. “We might have to lie low for a little while,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to see what the deal is with this new contact.”

Kanan scratched his beard. “What’s the contact’s name? Or can’t you tell me?”

“Cikatro Vizago. He’s the leader of the Broken Horn Syndicate. He just set up shop on Lothal, apparently. Jho says he knows a lot about the Empire’s comings and goings- for a price, of course.”

“A crime lord, huh?” Kanan said, feeling bemused. “That’s new for us.”

“Well…it’s not ideal.” Hera said. “But we have to take whatever we can get.”

“You’re right, unfortunately. I’m not crazy about it. But you’re right.”

“I’m _always_ right, Kanan,” she said, with a wry smile, as if she was vaguely doubting her own assertion. “Meet me in the cockpit for landing,” she added, as she turned and headed into the corridor behind her.

“Aye, Cap’n,” Kanan called to her retreating back.

There was no point in dwelling on his vision, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. All it told him was that, at some point in the future, something was going to break Hera’s heart. He wondered if, somehow, it was him.

 _No_ , he thought. _I would never hurt her like that. I would die first._

Another thought crept into his mind, unbidden: What if his death _was_ the reason for her heartbreak?

For the first time, Kanan thought about leaving Hera, if only to spare her the pain he'd seen in his vision. But he could not bring himself to contemplate the idea further. He never wanted to leave her. Unless, of course, he could save her life by doing so. 

He breathed deeply, squared his shoulders, and went to join Hera in the cockpit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know what was going to happen in season 4 when I wrote this, but now that I know, it's sort of...awful. Obviously, now I can say definitively that Kanan saw Hera in the future, after he's gone...probably not long after his death, in fact. It's an interesting question, really. If you knew you could spare someone you love the pain of your loss, would you walk away before it could happen? 
> 
> Listening rec: "The Violet Hour"- The Civil Wars


	13. Vizago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up right after the last chapter, but switches to Hera's POV. This chapter contains a pretty big spoiler from "Lords of the Sith".

Hera dropped into her seat in the cockpit of the _Ghost,_ feeling completely exhausted. Was this what love felt like? Because if so, she wasn't sure that she wanted anything to do with it.

Granted, she reflected, she wasn't making it any easier on herself.

To Hera, love meant loss. The Empire destroyed love, and the empty spaces it left behind quickly filled with pain and heartbreak. She'd seen it over and over again on Ryloth, and more recently on her travels throughout the Galaxy. Her own father, Cham, had lost two loves to the Empire. After Hera's mother was killed, Cham threw himself into the Free Ryloth Movement, trying to put himself, and Ryloth, back together. And once he'd had some success with both, he lost Isval, one of his most trusted warriors. He never spoke to Hera about her, but Hera found out that Isval had sacrificed herself to save Cham and the Movement. 

Watching her father, and so many others, go through this sort of pain had made Hera very wary of it. Losing her mother had been brutal, of course, but it was different for her father. He lost his partner, best friend, lover, and the mother of his child, all at once. Her death changed him in ways that Hera couldn't truly understand. What she did understand was that Cham became obsessed with liberating Ryloth, to the exclusion of everything else, including his own daughter. It was like losing both parents, in a way. Her father was there, but he was not the man she knew any longer. 

The loss of his wife may have hardened her father, but for others, a loss like that became a weakness, a vulnerability. Hera didn't want to be weak. She refused to allow herself to become vulnerable. So she'd kept her distance from compromising entanglements, always moving further away from anyone who tried to get too close. Not that she hadn't had her fun, particularly after her mother died, when she needed comfort the most. Hera was not shy, and if she wanted something (or someone), she went after it. But it was only fun, and never anything more serious than that. 

That is, until she kissed Kanan. 

The _Ghost_ drifted in a lonely area of space outside the Lothal system, and Hera looked out at glittering stars that her eyes did not see. What she saw, instead, was Kanan's face, lit up by his lightsaber in the darkened cargo hold. She'd never seen anything like what she'd just witnessed. He was powerful and graceful, and there was something about it that had seemed almost otherworldly. It was magic from a time long gone.

Hera had gone looking for Kanan to tell him about the meeting with the crime boss on Lothal, when she heard a strange humming noise coming from the cargo hold. She knew every noise her ship made; this was most definitely not one of them. As she approached the hold, she saw blue light reflecting off the walls, and a second later, she saw Kanan. He was moving so quickly, spinning and twirling the glowing blade, that it was difficult for her eyes to follow it. 

Then, suddenly, he'd stopped moving, both his hands falling to his sides. He was breathing hard, staring at nothing with unfocused eyes. "Hera," he'd said, his voice choked with pain. 

She shivered as she recalled the way he'd said her name. Unlike many of the children who were small during the Clone Wars, or those who were born afterwards, Hera grew up knowing that the Jedi were real. Still, her knowledge was limited to what her father had told her, and what she'd seen on forbidden Holos. She held no faith in the validity of Jedi visions. And if Kanan had somehow seen the future, well, Hera didn't believe in destiny. Nothing was set in stone, as far as she was concerned. If she placed any stock whatsoever in the idea that the future couldn't be changed, why even bother trying to fight the Empire?

No, she wasn't unduly worried about whatever Kanan had seen. But his pain cut her to the bone. And the way he'd said her name, all the raw emotion in his voice, the agonized look on his face...it was clear to her that his feelings for her were a lot stronger than she'd suspected, despite his apparent ease in moving past the awkwardness on the _Phantom_. She had kissed him in a moment of confusion and weakness, gripped by a sudden fear of losing him, and she was furious with herself. 

Hera brushed her fingertips across her lips and closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the headrest. She couldn't help recalling the feel of Kanan's mouth on hers, and his arms around her; she felt as if her blood had turned to fire. 

"Hera."

Hera's eyes flew open, and she felt her face get warm. His already deep voice was deeper still, when he said her name. She felt it reverberate in her belly. The fire running through her veins felt hot enough to melt durasteel. 

Hera sat bolt upright in her chair and started flipping switches and pressing buttons, getting the _Ghost_ ready for the flight back to Lothal, pretending everything was just the same as always. She had learned many things from watching her father, and one of them was never to lose one's cool. No reason to let Kanan see how off balance she was. Anyway, getting back to work, for her, was the quickest way to sharpen her focus and distract her from the mess she'd created between her and Kanan. She also very much wanted to distract herself from the desire to grab him and kiss him again. 

"Let's get going. Old Jho set up a meeting for us in an hour with this Vizago guy," she said, not looking at him. She was pleased to hear that her own voice sounded calm and steady.

Kanan stood looking down at her for a moment longer, and then he slipped into the co-pilot chair with a barely audible sigh. "I hope dealing with a crime boss is worth the risk," he said, evidently opting to follow her lead and get back to business.

"Me too," Hera agreed, firing up the _Ghost's_ engines.

An hour later, Hera walked through the doorway of Old Jho's Pit Stop, with Kanan close behind her. She'd never been so aware of the proximity of his body to hers before, and she kept her distance, careful not to touch him. It seemed that he was also keeping his distance from her, but she suspected that he was just trying to give her space. The ease and comfort they'd shared for the last seven months seemed strained, and she hated it. Every time her eyes met his, she could practically see that their kiss was on constant replay in his mind.

How could she have been so stupid? She had no idea what would happen now, but she felt as though she'd just murdered her best friend with a kiss, in an idiotic moment of weakness. There were so many reasons not to get romantically involved with him. And yet...

Hera glanced over at him, and he smiled at her, his teal eyes warm. It was not the charmingly arrogant smile of the Kanan she'd met on Gorse, but a real smile. A little, very annoying voice inside her told her that she wanted to be a lot more than just friends with Kanan Jarrus. But the rest of her thought it was a terrible idea, and was sure it would ruin everything.

Hera and Kanan walked over to the bar, which completely empty of other customers, likely due to the late hour. Farming communities tended to be full of early-to-rise and early-to-bed type folks.

"How's it going, Jho?" Hera asked the Ithorian barkeep, leaning one elbow on the bar.

"Hera! Kanan! Nice to see you," Jho said through his translator. "Can I get you anything?"

Hera shook her head. "Nothing for me. Just here to meet your friend. Kanan?"

"You know, I could really use one of your Fogblasters tonight, Jho," Kanan said, ignoring Hera's sideways glance.

Hera found Ithorian features hard to read, but she suspected that Kanan was getting a sympathetic look from the bar man. She suppressed an eye roll and scanned the other patrons, spying a darkened back table that was being guarded by an assassin droid. The Devaronian at the table had one broken horn.

"I assume that's your friend, Jho?" Hera said, nodding slightly in the Devaronian's direction.

Jho tilted his head to one side as he mixed Kanan's drink. "I wouldn't call him my friend. But that's him. Tread carefully, Hera. He has no scruples- all he cares about are credits. I wouldn't have even suggested you talk to him, if I didn't think you two were capable of handling him."

"We're capable," Kanan said with his usual level of cockiness, sliding the credits for his drink across the bar to Jho and gratefully accepting the glass. "Cheers," he said, raising the glass towards Hera.

She watched him take a big gulp. His eyes widened as he swallowed, and then he coughed. "Burns, eh?" she smirked. It was a little bit satisfying, since he was so obviously trying to get a rise out of her.

Jho chuckled. "I make 'em stronger for my best customers."

"Yes, you certainly do. Thanks, Jho," Kanan said.

Hera didn't bother suppressing her next impulse to roll her eyes. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The assassin droid bodyguard stuck out one arm as Hera and Kanan approached. "Halt," it said. "What is your business with Mr. Vizago?"

"He agreed to meet us here tonight," Hera said, feeling exasperated. This guy clearly had an inflated sense of grandeur.

"Sit," Vizago growled, from behind the droid. The droid dropped its arm and backed up to allow them to pass.

Kanan slid into the booth, followed by Hera. Kanan slouched in his seat, looking every bit the unimpressed roughneck he'd been on Gorse. Hera suddenly realized that he'd changed quite a lot during the short time he'd been with her on the _Ghost_. Or maybe he had just changed a lot in her eyes.

"What is it that Vizago can do for you?" the Devaronian asked.

 _Great. He talks about himself in the third person_ , Hera thought.

"Jho said that you might be looking for some assistance, and it just so happens that Kanan and I are looking for someone to assist," she said.

Vizago's crimson eyes slid over to Kanan and evaluated him with a shrewd gaze, and then slid back to Hera, giving her a similar inspection.

"What makes you think you're the right people for the job?" Vizago finally asked, placing his elbows on the table and steepling his long-nailed fingers together.

"Well, for one thing, my ship can mask its signature and signal. We're very good at avoiding Imperial attention," she said.

"Is that right? Well, now that I think about it, I do find myself needing that type of assistance. It so happens that there's a shipment of BlasTech DLT-19 heavy blaster rifles scheduled to leave Lothal for the Core, and some of my clients are very keen to acquire just that type of weapon. Of course, getting that shipment off Lothal and into the hands of my clients certainly might present a problem for me, since I don't own a ship that can mask both signal _and_ signature," Vizago said.

"I guess it's fortunate that I do, then," Hera said.

"It is," Vizago agreed. "But we won't discuss the details here. I'll be in touch."

"What's the compensation?" Kanan asked.

Hera flashed him a look.

The Devaronian took his time shifting his eyes to look at Kanan. "Maybe nothing, if you ask me stupid questions."

Kanan shrugged, swigging from his glass. "It's a fair question."

Vizago looked irritated. "I'm not sure what you're used to, kid, but you want to be careful."

"You're the one who wants to be careful. And don't call me 'kid'," Kanan snapped.

Now the Devaronian looked fully angry. He placed both palms on the table which, in Hera's opinion, put them much too close to his blaster.

She cleared her throat. "I appreciate you meeting with us. We'll wait to hear from you," she said, using a pleasant tone that clearly indicated she did not share the opinions or manners of the idiot sitting next to her.

Vizago looked at Hera as if a voice of reason had just spoken. "Maybe you leave him behind, the next time we meet," he suggested.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hera saw Kanan stiffen in anger. She raised one eyebrow and quickly said, "He goes where I go. But he'll keep his mouth shut, next time."

"I hope so," Vizago said.

Hera nodded once and slid out of the booth, hoping Kanan followed. A second or two later, she felt him come up behind her as she walked towards the exit.

As soon as they were outside, she turned on him. "What was _that_?" she demanded.

Kanan shrugged. "What was what?"

Hera glared at him. "Maybe he's right. Maybe you shouldn't come to the next meeting."

"I'm _definitely_ going. That guy can't be trusted, and I don't like him."

"You're a kriffing pain when you drink," she replied.

Kanan stared at her for a few seconds. " _You're_ a kriffing pain when you kiss someone and then act like nothing happened."

"Nothing did happen! It was just a stupid kiss. Big deal," she hissed.

Kanan's mouth pressed into a grim line, and then his face fell. "Is that the way it's going to be?" he asked quietly.

Hera had had a very long, mentally and emotionally exhausting day, and she didn't feel like answering the question. She didn't want to deal with Kanan anymore that night, either.

She decided to ignore the question. "I'm going to bed," she announced. "See you in the morning."

She turned on heel, flipped her lekku, and stomped off towards her ship.

This time, Kanan didn't follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two idiots. Well, really, I'm the puppet master here. But it was time they had a fight. Hera has a much different past than Kanan, and I wanted to figure out how that informs the person she is, particularly when it comes to romantic love. She had parents who loved each other, and presumably her mother died because of the Empire, although there's nothing specific on her mom. [If you read "Lords of the Sith", then you know about Isval. Sorry for the spoiler, if you haven't read it (that's why I have a spoiler warning on this thing, though)]. She has a different perspective than Kanan does on what happens to people who fall in love in the age of the Empire. Also, from the few Kanera fics I've read, it seems like some people prefer a more virginal version of Hera. But I liked the idea that she had her fun with those Free Ryloth boys (and maybe girls, who knows?) and got it out of her system before she joins the Rebellion. Plus, I didn't want her to go into her relationship with Kanan and have him be the only guy she's ever been with, and I didn't want her to be inexperienced. It didn't seem fair to write her like that. She's a confident badass. I just can't imagine her not approaching EVERYTHING like that. 
> 
> I also wanted to add a couple of links to youtube videos that inspired the Kanan practicing Form III part. They're short but pretty cool. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uePGZsdCfIo
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPr-T1xcLJo
> 
> Or you can just go to youtube and search "force storm academy soresu".
> 
> Listening rec: "Gravity" - Sara Bareilles


	14. The Smuggler's Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after AND (more or less)...and two weeks or so after the last chapter.

“This is a terrible idea,” Kanan said, leaning back in the co-pilot chair and looking over at Hera. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Chopper grumbled agreement from the back corner of the cockpit. The fact that Chopper was agreeing with him only proved Kanan’s point.

“I never have bad ideas, and I wish you’d stop saying that,” Hera said, checking their location with the navicomputer. “We’ve got about another 15 minutes in hyperspace.”

“Are you kidding? Most of your ideas are bad, but we make it work somehow. And if Chopper thinks this is a bad idea, then you should know that _it’s a bad idea_ , Hera! Unlike you, I’ve actually been to Nar Shaddaa. It’s a terrible place.” Kanan shook his head in disbelief. “I would never have agreed to this if I’d known that was where Vizago was sending us.”

“If you recall,” Hera said, “I found out about the drop location at the same time you did.”

“I do recall that, yeah. What kind of scum just gives coordinates? Remind me to properly thank Vizago when we get back to Lothal.”

Hera shot him a look. “We need to stay on his good side, Kanan,” she warned. “Anyway, what’s the big deal? We can handle it.”

Kanan laughed without mirth. “You’re worried about getting on Vizago’s bad side? Do you know what Nar Shaddaa is full of? Hutts, Hera. It’s full of Hutts, and their bounty hunters and slavers.”

“We’ll just avoid them,” Hera replied, completely unworried.

“That’s like saying you’re going to avoid a gundark, and then walking deliberately into a gundark’s nest.”

Hera shrugged. “Vizago said all we have to do is land, unload the blasters, get the credits, and we’re out of there. You worry too much.”

Kanan spluttered incoherently for a few seconds, folding his arms across his chest and glaring across the cockpit at Hera. She had no idea what she was talking about. Nar Shaddaa, also known as the Smuggler’s Moon, was just one giant city full of sleemos. He’d been there many years ago, thinking it would be a good place to find work and have a good time. At first, the vast urban sprawl had reminded him of Coruscant. But Nar Shaddaa was a polluted, decaying cesspool, and its denizens were truly vile. Kanan enjoyed a fast and loose planet with minimal Imperial presence just as much as the next guy, but Nar Shaddaa took it to another level. Murder was a regular occurrence, and he’d been appalled at sheer volume of poorly-treated slaves he’d seen- many of them Twi’lek. All Kanan had wanted to do on Nar Shaddaa was rescue the continually preyed-upon weak that he saw everywhere he looked. It wasn’t a good place for a former Jedi padawan with occasional noble impulses. He’d tried to avoid Hutt-controlled planets ever since.

“And don’t bother giving me dirty looks,” Hera said dryly. “You’re the one who keeps complaining that you need drinking credits.”

This was a low blow, and Hera knew it. Over the past two weeks since Hera kissed him, she’d seemed dead set on punishing _him_ for it. The morning after their fight in front of the Pit Stop, he’d woken up hungover, lying in the cargo bay of the _Ghost_ with Hera glaring down at him. She had not spoken much to him for the rest of that day. They’d gradually and awkwardly resumed some semblance of their former friendship since then, but with a lot more snark coming from Hera. Kanan, meanwhile, had always managed the difficulties of his life with drinking, and he saw no reason not to resume his most reliable coping mechanism. He’d spent most nights at Old Jho’s, drinking and avoiding the beautiful green-skinned menace.

Kanan was at a loss about what to do. It was clearly some sort of misguided attempt on Hera’s part to subdue or deny her feelings for him, but he knew that pressing the issue would be a mistake. His only choices, really, were to stay and deal with it...or leave. Leaving had always been the easiest solution to any problem Kanan had. And then he met Hera, and even with her snark and her cranky droid, living on the _Ghost_ felt like home. He loved the ship, and even felt rare moments of reluctant affection for the rude little droid. And, whether she wanted it or not, he was in love with Hera. He knew that leaving would cause more problems for him than it would solve.

Kanan supposed that, if they made it through the trip to Nar Shaddaa in one piece, they might go back to the way they’d been before Hera kissed him. But the possibility of moving backwards with her, instead of forward, was one he wasn't happy to consider. As he watched her lovely, young Twi’lek face glow in the vivid blue light of hyperspace, he was filled with dread over the fact that he was accompanying her to a place a lovely young female Twi’lek should never go.

The navicomputer beeped, alerting them that they’d arrived. Hera dropped her ship out of hyperspace, and got a good first look at Nal Hutta and its moon, Nar Shaddaa. The dark orb was crisscrossed with the glowing lights of the massive urban sprawl on the surface.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” she said.

“Nothing looks bad from this high up,” Kanan replied. “Trust me, it gets a lot worse.”

Hera guided the ship smoothly towards the drop coordinates, still unconcerned. “Well, on the bright side, we don’t have to deal with any Imperial nonsense here, at least.”

“I’d rather deal with Imperials than Hutts and slavers,” he growled.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I really wish I was, Hera.”

The coordinates turned out to be a landing platform on the edge of a tall, dark spire that jutted into the clouds. The moon was so congested that its inhabitants had begun building upwards, and landing platforms and refueling stations like this were thrust out of the melee below at regular intervals across the moon’s surface. The orange glow from the city beneath was bright enough to blot the stars.

Hera landed on the platform, which appeared to be empty.

“Maybe you should stay here,” he said, peering anxiously out into the darkness beyond the canopy.

She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe _you_ should stay here.”

“I’m looking out for you,” Kanan said, exasperated.

“Thanks, but I don’t need you to.”

He sighed. “Alright, but...let’s just do this quickly and get out of here. Chopper, keep the _Ghost_ running.”

Chopper grumbled an insult at Kanan, which was about as close to acknowledgment as Kanan expected to get.

Three men emerged from a doorway at the end of the platform, and started making their way towards the ship. They were dressed in the typical manner of bounty hunters or smugglers, armed with blasters.

“Let’s go,” Hera said, all business, as she stood and walked out of the cockpit towards the cargo bay.

Five minutes later, the three vile-looking men made their way up the ramp into the bay, checking out the ship with appraising eyes. Beyond coordinates, Vizago hadn't provided them with any information, so they had no idea who these guys were or who they worked for. Kanan stood a few meters to Hera’s left, his hand ready next to his blaster holster. The men were dirty, with missing teeth and filthy clothes. Most people on Nar Shaddaa were grungy-looking; if you were clean and wore nice clothes, you became an easy mark.

“Nice ship,” one man growled. He wore an obnoxiously large leather bandolier slung over a tunic that had clearly not been washed in a very long time, and looked to be in middle age. “Yours?” He pointed at Kanan.

“It’s mine,” Hera said, hands on her hips. Always as cool as a dead star.

Three pairs of dirt-encrusted eyes fell on her, appraising her in much the same way they’d examined her ship, like an object of value. The three men exchanged quick glances, and the man with the bandolier, who appeared to be the leader, stepped towards one of the two BlasTech blaster crates.

“Mind if I take a peek?” Bandolier guy asked, indicating the nearest crate.

Hera nodded. He unlocked the crate via the control panel on its side, and lifted the lid.

“Look at these shiny beauties! My boss is going to be one happy Hutt tonight,” the man said. “Now...let’s see if we can’t sweeten the pot.”

All three men pulled out their blasters and pointed them at Hera and Kanan. “Hands where I can see ‘em,” Bandolier guy grinned at them with a mouth full of brown teeth.

Hera scowled, raising her hands. “Do you think your boss will be happy if you ruin his relationship with Vizago by killing two of Vizago’s best people?”

“You too, pretty boy. Get those hands in the air,” Bandolier said to Kanan. Turning back to Hera, he chuckled. “Who said we were going to kill you? And don’t worry about Vizago, beautiful. We’ll pay him well for you two, and this ship, and he’ll be very happy.” Bandolier’s two associates laughed harshly behind him.

Kanan slowly raised his hands as ordered, feeling rage boiling in his gut. He’d been anxious about something like this happening, but had hoped against hope that Vizago wasn’t sending them into what was basically a trap. He should have known better.

Bandolier walked around the BlasTech crate and towards Hera, blaster raised. “You’re a feisty one,” he told her. “I like that.”

He reached out one dirty hand and brushed a finger along her right lek, leering at her. She jerked her head away from him, looking furious.

Kanan’s vision went red, and he lost all awareness of anything other than removing the sleemo from Hera’s immediate vicinity. He pushed his right hand towards Bandolier, and the man flew backwards and hit the cargo bay wall with a loud thud.

Hera turned her head to stare pointedly at him. _It’s too late now_ , he thought, as he held the man against the wall. “Drop your blaster,” he growled.

Bandolier’s eyes were wide, and he coughed, struggling against invisible bonds. Then, as he stared at Kanan’s outstretched hand, sudden understanding filled his filthy face. “You,” he breathed. “You’re a Jedi.”

Kanan said nothing, continuing to press him against the wall.

“Well, boys,” Bandolier announced, “Looks like tonight is our lucky night! The Empire will pay a hefty bounty for this….Jedi.”

“That’s not happening,” Kanan said.

“I’ll tell you what’s happening, Jedi,” the man said, eyes narrowing. “You’re going to let me go, because if you don’t, this pretty ship is going to be decorated with your pretty girlfriend’s brains. A Jedi is worth _a lot_ more than a Twi’lek slave.”

Kanan glanced at Hera. She didn’t look frightened at all, but she was an absolute master at keeping her composure. There was something in her eyes that he couldn’t read, though.

“Call for backup,” Bandolier told his men. “We’re getting this bounty, boys.”

Kanan wasn’t about to let these wastes of oxygen capture him, or kill Hera. Allowing them to call for backup was not an option. He could feel the Force flowing through him, in a way he’d not felt since he went by the name Caleb Dume. With his left hand, he shoved hard at Bandolier’s two men. They flew backwards, flinging their arms out and shrieking, and landed with two sickening thuds at the bottom of the cargo bay ramp, sprawled out and unmoving.

Kanan twitched his right wrist, and Bandolier’s blaster ripped itself from his hands and shot towards Kanan’s outstretched palm. His mind was silent with laser-like focus, and without thinking about it at all, he flipped the blaster around in his hand and aimed it at Bandolier. He fired, and the filthy man immediately dropped to the deck in a heap.

He did not look at Hera. Instead, he stalked down the ramp towards the two men at the bottom, and shot them, one after the other. In a matter of minutes, the whole thing was over. Kanan stood looking down at the third man he’d just killed, blaster dangling from his now limp hand. He turned, slowly, and strode back up the ramp.

Hera, who was far too practical to waste time standing there looking shocked, had grabbed Bandolier by the ankles, and was dragging him down the ramp towards Kanan. He dropped the blaster on Bandolier’s chest, and began rummaging through the man’s clothing. No sense in not getting paid, after all that. Sure enough, he found a bag of credits in the man’s left pants pocket. Kanan dropped the bag into his own pocket, and then hefted him up by the shoulders, helping Hera carry him. They dumped his body at the bottom of the ramp.

Hera activated her comlink as they hurried back into the ship. “Chopper. Get us out of here. Now.”

She smacked her palm against the button that closed the cargo bay hatch, and as she did so, Kanan could feel _Ghost’s_ engines shudder as the ship lifted off the landing pad. Hera took off towards the cockpit, and Kanan followed.

She was already in her seat when he arrived. He quickly dropped into the co-pilot’s seat.

“Finish calculating the jump to lightspeed, Chop,” she said, her voice terse. Clouds scudded past the canopy and the stars began to appear. And then, suddenly, the same stars stretched into long lines and the ship shot into hyperspace.

Hera swiveled her seat around and looked at him, her face difficult to read. He looked back at her warily.

“That was stupid, Kanan,” she said calmly.

“Really? Saving us from being captured by those sleemos was stupid? I wouldn’t have done what I did if I thought there was any other way to handle it.”

Hera shook her head. “There were plenty of other ways to handle it! You got mad and acted rashly because of me. And now we have a mess on our hands.”

“We had a mess on our hands to begin with, when we got involved with Vizago!” he said, his voice rising.

She glowered at him. “Vizago has Imperial contacts, Kanan. We _need_ people with Imperial contacts, if we want to hurt the Empire.”

“I told you, Hera. I’m not a revolutionary. Getting involved with crime lords means you’re probably the only one who’ll get hurt, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

“The risks I take are my choice!” she said loudly. “You don’t get to make that call. And if you don’t want to help me, what are you still doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped.

They sat glaring at each other for several long seconds.

Kanan stood abruptly. “I’ll be in the cargo bay cleaning up the blood from your would-be slaver, if you need something,” he growled, as he turned and stomped out of the cockpit. 

When he reached the cargo bay, Kanan slumped against the wall. She was right. What he’d done was stupid. Having a Hutt after you was bad news. And using the Force? Even worse. If anyone else had seen what he’d done...he’d be putting both himself and Hera at risk of capture by the Empire. Leaving had always been an easy escape for any problems Kanan might have had, but it was also a means of protection. Staying in one place for too long was risky. He’d get a little too comfortable, and the people around him would start to get to know him well enough to notice that there was something different about him. He was too good at everything, too lucky. Eventually, it became suspicious, and that’s when Kanan always left; not only for his own protection, but for the protection of the people around him. Old Jedi habits died hard, it seemed.

He’d been selfish all this time, putting Hera in danger. If he really loved her, he was going to have to put his own feelings aside, and do what was right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Everything You Fear to Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after AND...picks up shortly after the last chapter.

Cikatro Vizago stood in front of his ship, the _Broken Horn_ , with his arms folded over his chest. Hera walked towards him, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. Kanan lagged a few steps behind her.

"Where are my blaster rifles?" Vizago called.

 _Well...he knows. At least I don't have to break the news to him_ , Hera thought.

She waited until she'd covered a few more meters of the distance between herself and the leader of the Broken Horn Syndicate before answering. "In the cargo bay," she answered, jerking her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her ship. She stopped a short distance away from him, just to be on the safe side.

Kanan, however, kept going, until he was directly in front of the Devaronian. He shoved a finger into Vizago's chest.

"You sleemo," he growled, eyes blazing. "You sent us to Nar Shaddaa to deal with a bunch of slavers! We were almost captured."

"Ah," Vizago said, "But you _weren't_ captured."

"What?" Kanan demanded. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Vizago shrugged. "You handled the situation, didn't you? I have to make sure the people working for me can handle themselves."

Kanan took a step closer to Vizago, getting directly into his face. " _Are you saying that you set this whole thing up deliberately?"_ he asked, his voice gravelly with anger.

"Eh," Vizago said, shrugging again. "I don't like this guy you killed, you know? He thinks he's a tough guy, but he's just Nar Shaddaa scum. No class, no appreciation for business, always double-crossing Vizago. You did me a favor by getting rid of him. Two mynocks, one blaster."

"Are you kidding me?!" Kanan burst out, looking like he was ready to kill Vizago.

"Kanan…" Hera warned, watching Vizago's IG-RM bodyguard droids abandon their work loading the _Broken Horn_ , and start to make their way over to their master.

"Back up, kid," Vizago said, poking a long fingernail at Kanan. "You wanted to be a part of the criminal underworld. This is how we do things. If you're smart and strong, you live. If you're dumb and weak, you die. Simple. I don't know how you did it, but you didn't die. So you live another day to commit crimes for Vizago."

Kanan scowled and stepped back from Vizago, finally noting the approach of the droids. "Don't call me kid," he spat, clearly irritated about having to break off his onslaught.

"Your problem is that you're too noble, _kid_. I can see it just by looking at you. This one," he said, pointing at Hera, "She has the guts to do what has to be done. You, not so much." He guffawed, as if he'd just told a hilarious joke.

Hera was starting to worry that Kanan's head would actually explode. At least he was smart enough to stay still and keep his mouth shut, under the watchful gaze of the IG-RM droids.

"Aren't you worried about the Hutts?" Hera interrupted, attempting to redirect the conversation.

Vizago laughed harder. "The Hutts? No, no. They kill my people; I kill theirs. We steal from each other. It's been going on so long that no one knows who owes who what anymore. But if they got a look at you or your ship, you might need to worry."

"The signature was masked," Hera told him.

"Well, then maybe you don't need to worry too much, either," Vizago replied. "You got my credits, too, I assume?"

"Those are _our_ credits," Kanan said tersely.

"Well…you did me a favor, so I'll let you keep them," Vizago agreed. "I admit, I'd like to know how you got the drop on Revis and his boys, though. It seems like you two are going to work out better than I thought." He motioned to his droids to unload the blaster rifles from the _Ghost._

"Glad you think so," Kanan growled.

"I'd be willing to split those credits with you for some intel," Hera offered, avoiding Kanan's pointed glare of disapproval.

Vizago eyed her. "What kind of intel?"

"The Imperial kind," she said. Now it was time to see if this madness would pay off.

"Maybe I was wrong about you," he said.

"Maybe. Or maybe I just want to do some damage to the Empire."

"You're wasting your time," Vizago announced. "Taking out a few Nar Shaddaa scum doesn't mean you're going to be able to do much to the Empire, girl."

Hera shrugged. "Every little bit helps."

Vizago chuckled. "I feel that way about credits, and if you were smart, you would too. But it's fine if you're not too smart. More credits for Vizago."

"So? Do you know anything about Imperial activity on Lothal?" she asked.

"I know that the Empire did geological surveys and scans of the Westhills area, and what they found is causing them to buy up as much land as they can, as fast as they can. Landowners who won't sell are...evicted. Better to get the credits, if you ask me."

Hera and Kanan exchanged glances. "I thought Seinar Fleet Systems was building a facility there?" Hera asked.

"Not anymore. Not after they scanned the area," Vizago said.

"What did they find?" Kanan wanted to know, looking suspicious, as if he knew what the answer would be.

Vizago's crimson eyes were glowing with greed now. "Kyber crystals. A _lot_ of kyber crystals."

Hera would have to talk to Fulcrum about this. The Empire's interest in these crystals was worrisome, to say the least.

"Do you know anything else about it?" she asked Vizago.

"Not at the moment, but I'm sure I will soon. For a price."

"Of course," Kanan grumbled.

"This is business! You want information, you earn it. Just like everyone else does," Vizago said, slapping Kanan on the shoulder. "I might give you more information, if you tell me how the two of you managed to kill Revis."

Kanan glowered at Vizago, saying nothing.

Hera thought it best to break up the meeting while they were ahead, and preferably before Kanan did something rash. "Kanan, give Vizago his credits so we can be on our way."

Kanan reluctantly pulled the bag of credits from his pocket and removed half of its contents, scowling at Vizago as he deposited the credits in Vizago's hand.

"Thank you," Vizago said, smiling broadly. "Not so much of a pleasure doing business with you... but I'm only here for the credits."

Kanan turned and stalked back towards the _Ghost_ , passing Vizago's droids as they moved the crates of blaster rifles towards Vizago's ship.

"Let us know when you have something else for us," Hera said to Vizago. He inclined his horned head towards her, and she turned and followed Kanan.

He'd made it to the common room by the time she caught up to him, and he was sitting at the table with a very sour look on his face.

"Well, that went better than I expected," she said brightly. "And we even got some interesting intel out of the deal. More kyber crystals. I'm hoping we can get a lead on what the Empire is doing with them…" Hera trailed off, looking at Kanan, who appeared not to have heard a word she'd just said.

She felt a sudden stab of guilt. She knew she'd been behaving abominably for the past two weeks, and she didn't blame him for drinking and dodging her. Hera's soul-searching had yielded one incontrovertible truth: she had strong feelings for Kanan. But she couldn't allow her feelings for him to derail the overall mission- the mission that she couldn't even tell him about. Vizago had been correct; Hera had the guts to do what needed to be done. But hurting her best friend and partner was an extremely unpleasant consequence, and she was feeling a tremendous amount of remorse.

"Kanan…" she said, intending to give him the explanation he deserved.

"I need to talk to you, Hera," he said, still not looking at her. "Come sit."

Hera felt instantly wary. But she didn't detect any imminent romantic declarations in his tone of voice, which was a good sign. She walked over to the bench and sat down next to him.

"Okay...talk," she said. "I'm listening."

"I'm leaving the _Ghost_ ," he said. "I'm going back to working alone."

She felt her mouth fall open, but nothing came out.

"Normally, I just pack my stuff up and leave without saying goodbye, but I can't do that to you." His voice was very matter-of-fact, as if he had already struggled with his decision, and had come to terms with it.

Hera opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, still unable to locate her voice. Even if she could have generated words, she couldn't think of a single thing to say. 

Kanan finally raised his eyes to look at her, but he didn't say anything. His gaze, though warm, seemed distant. He was trying to detach himself from his life with her.

All at once, her voice returned, and it sounded rough to her earcones. "Why do you want to leave?" she demanded.

"I don't _want_ to leave," he replied. "But after what happened on Nar Shaddaa...if anyone had seen what I did, or if we'd been captured by those sleemos...the Empire would kill you, Hera. They would kill you just for your association with a Jedi. But they would probably torture you first. I can't put you in that kind of danger."

"I told you, Kanan...You don't get to decide which risks I take," she said, immediately annoyed.

"No, but in this case, I can take the risk completely out of the equation."

She scowled at him. "You're being ridiculous. You can't protect me from the Empire. I don't _need_ you to protect me. But I do need you to help me. I...I don't want you to leave."

Kanan looked at her for a long moment without saying anything. Then he said, "I know you don't."

"Then don't leave!" she said, completely exasperated. He was an idiot. Why did she ask this idiot to live on her ship in the first place? Hera's chest felt tight, and there was a lump in her throat.

"I have to," Kanan said. This time, he sounded sad.

"You're an idiot, Kanan Jarrus," Hera snapped.

"I don't disagree with you. But I'm glad you're mad at me...I'd rather you be mad at me," he told her, standing up. "I'll go get my stuff."

"You're leaving now?!" Hera asked, stunned. "Right now?"

"Why drag it out? I'll hitch a ride to Capital City and get a transport to Garel."

"Let me at least give you a ride," she said, at a total loss.

"Thanks, but I'll be okay," Kanan said, not really sounding all that sure about it. He disappeared into the corridor and returned a minute later with a small bag in hand. _He was already packed_ , she thought, and the realization made her heart ache.

"Can I at least walk you out?" Hera asked, her voice small. Kanan had succeeded in making her lose her cool. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find it again.

He nodded, and she stood and followed him through the cargo bay and down the ramp. When they reached the bottom, she looked up at him.

 "Kanan...you don't have to leave."

"It's safer for you if I go," he said, his blue-green gaze steady. "You know that."

"I don't know that," she said defiantly. "And neither do you. Is this because of that vision you had? You said that those visions are hard to interpret."

"It's not the vision. It's because of what I did on Nar Shadaa. You were right; I did it because of you." He paused and swallowed hard, and then he said, "I love you, Hera. I'd rather live without you, though, than be the reason you suffer or die."

Once again, Hera's voice vanished. She stared at him, completely astonished.

Kanan's lips lifted into a wry smile, and he reached out a hand and brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

"Thanks for the best time I've ever had," he said softly. Then he turned and strode away from her.

Hera stood there and watched him walk away from her until he disappeared. And then she stood there until the sky darkened and the stars came out. She stood there until she heard Chopper warbling and grumbling at the top of the ramp.

She turned and looked up at him, and after a moment, he emitted a sad sound. She walked up the ramp and placed her hand on his dome.

"Chop, will you keep me company tonight?" she asked the little droid.

He grumbled and chittered.

"I know you do," she said. "You're always here for me, buddy."

They walked into the ship together, already feeling the heavy weight of Kanan's absence, and hoping they could bear it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY YOU GUYS. I got weepy while writing this, which is dumb, because I know it turns out okay. Hera's got to get to the point where she realizes that love is what makes the Galaxy go 'round. I mean, what ultimately destroys the Emperor? Love, right? Granted, it's a father's love for his son. But it's still love. And Kanan needs to realize that he can't save everyone, and that being alone is no way to live. He needs to let go of his attachment to her, and he needs to let her make her own decisions and take her own risks.
> 
> Listening rec: "She is the Sunlight" by David Hodges


	16. Go Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after AND.

In the four months since leaving Lothal, Kanan had done little more than drink and wander, taking mostly unpleasant jobs here and there to fund the drinking. His latest job was his least favorite, which was really saying something: he'd been conscripted into bounty hunting to pay off a rather large gambling debt acquired on Sel Zonn Station.

He'd been a bounty hunter before; Kanan had tried just about every job the Galaxy had to offer, short of working for the Empire. The bounties were usually excellent- one good job could bring in enough credits for months of wandering and drinking- but he'd always found the rest of it distasteful. Now, it seemed even worse. And it certainly didn't help that he wasn't actually earning any credits for his efforts.

On the upside, he only had one more job to do, and then his debt would be paid off to the lousy cheating sleemo who'd roped him into this madness in the first place. The cheating sleemo in question was one Ino Dravik, a professional gambler who traveled the Galaxy's casinos, taking everyone's money as he went. The casinos tolerated his obnoxious behavior and his cheating because he brought in business. Kanan had a rather disagreeable run-in with him at Sel Zonn's casino, The Credit Chip, after spending many hours drinking at Gundark's Cantina. His recollection of the evening in question was, needless to say, hazy. He remembered that he'd loudly accused Dravik of cheating. This was shortly followed by an extended altercation with Dravik's bodyguard, a man who was twice as broad and tall as Kanan. The last thing Kanan remembered from that night was the bodyguard's extremely large fist making a rapid approach towards his face.

He'd woken up busted-face-down on the floor of an expensive hotel suite. As it turned out, Dravik was impressed with him, but not so impressed that he was above threatening to kill him. Kanan didn't have the credits to pay off his losses to Dravik and, conveniently, Dravik had some dirty work that needed to be done, and had found a man who could (almost) withstand a beating from a giant.

All of this was, of course, terrible. Kanan's show with the giant bodyguard was terrible; no human male would have lasted so long against a monstrosity like that, especially not in a spectacularly inebriated state. Luckily, no one seemed to be all that suspicious about it, likely owing to the fact that most of the spectators that night were also spectacularly drunk. Also terrible: being conscripted into the service of a cheating piece of space trash like Ino Dravik. Kanan could imagine Hera's scowl of disapproval.

He wondered, as he often did, where she was and what she was doing.

He'd realized almost immediately that he'd made a terrible mistake in leaving her. But he still stood by his reasons for doing so, and he figured that she was probably mad at him now, too- so he kept putting distance between them. Looking back on it, he couldn't even believe he left her the way he did, with hardly any warning. She was probably furious with him. She'd have every right to be.

Even so, he'd debated with himself every day about going back, and each time, he'd talked himself out of it. What if she wasn't even hanging around on Lothal anymore? How could he ever hope to find her, in such a massive Galaxy? Prior to leaving, Kanan had never given much real thought to the possibility of never seeing Hera again; at the time, it had been unimaginable. But now, he had to face the reality of the situation, and it made him feel worse than almost anything had ever made him feel.

Drinking didn't help much, but it was something. He gave his current glass of alcohol a wink and friendly tap with his finger; it was doing a fine job getting him good and drunk. 

"You're full of self-doubt," a woman's voice said, loudly enough to be heard over the noise the so-called band was producing. Kanan didn't care for Rodian music. 

He looked around the dark, smoky cantina. Not seeing any women in his immediate vicinity, he shrugged, baffled, and took another swig of the unpronounceable beverage that was both cheap and very strong.

"Down here." A small orange, wrinkled, four-fingered hand with several rings on the fingers shot up and waved at him from below the opposite side of the bar where Kanan was seated. He leaned his elbows on the bar and lifted himself off the stool he was sitting on, peering over the side.

A diminutive humanoid woman with enormous glasses stared up at him, perched on her own much shorter stool. Her brown eyes, hugely magnified by the glasses, were warm and knowing.

"Close your mouth," she told him. "Something might fly into it."

He did as he was told. "Do I...know you?" he asked, trying to sound polite.

"I think you'd remember someone like me," she replied. "I'm Maz Kanata. Who might you be?"

"This is your place!" Kanan said, smiling. "I've been hearing about Maz Kanata's Castle for years, but I never made it to Takodana until now. Name's Kanan Jarrus."

"How do you like it so far, Kanan Jarrus?" Maz asked, hoisting herself off her stool. Once standing, the bar came up to her chin. She stepped up to stand on top of the stool so that she was closer to his eye level, and rested her hands on the bar.

Kanan lowered himself back onto his stool, now that he could see her properly. "I like it a lot. Takodana is a beautiful planet," he told her.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "But that's enough small talk. Let's have a real conversation." She adjusted her glasses so that her eyes were even more magnified, and she stared at him unblinkingly.

Oddly, Kanan didn't find her stare uncomfortable. There was something familiar about this tiny woman that he could not place.

"Why are you here? Not just to drink, I'm guessing?" she asked.

He saw no reason not to tell her the truth. Maz Kanata looked like she'd been around long enough to know when some young kid was trying to put one over on her. "I'm waiting for my next bounty; I owe a sleemo gambler a lot of credits, and I'm working them off," he said.

"You're better than that," she rebuked him, pointing a finger in his direction. "Much better. How did you survive?"

Kanan felt his mouth fall open again, and he snapped it shut. "Survive what?" he asked, playing dumb.

"I know what you were. What you _are_ ," she said in a low voice. "I know the Force."

Maybe she was just a crazy old lady, but he didn't think so. She was right; he definitely would remember someone like her, and he'd never seen her in the Jedi Temple. That didn't mean much, though. There had been tens of thousands of Jedi throughout the Galaxy, and though many passed through the Temple on Coruscant at one time or another, he was sure he hadn't seen every single Jedi in existence. Maz could be a survivor, too.

He knew better than to ask, though. "I ran," he said, looking down at his drink.

"It was the right thing for a child to do. But you weren't a child after that, were you? You had to learn to live on your own, all alone in the Galaxy. I don't blame you for the man you have become, but you could be so much more. The Force is strong in you," she told him, reaching for one of his hands, and taking it gently in both of hers. "You must go where your heart leads you, Kanan Jarrus, even if leads you, or those you love, into danger or death. Where does your heart tell you to go? It's not a cantina on Takodana, is it?"

"No. It's not."

"Then finish your job and go home," Maz told him, smiling gently as she let go of his hand. "Your home is waiting for you."

Kanan's datapad beeped with an incoming transmission, and he glanced down at it quickly. When he looked up again, Maz was walking away with a tray of drinks in her hands.

He picked up the datapad and switched it on. He'd been waiting for some kind of lead on the next bounty; Dravik hadn't given him much information, other than that the guy was a smuggler named Nash Arkanian, and he'd been last seen on Takodana.

Sure enough, the transmission was a message from Dravik: "Arkanian spotted on Lothal. Proceed directly. Capture or proof of death."

Kanan re-read the message to make sure he was still seeing straight. "Of all the dumb luck," he muttered.

The bounty was on Lothal. But it was a big enough planet, and maybe Hera wasn't even there anymore. Nevertheless, his gut clenched at the possibility of seeing her again. Maybe if he could just _see_ her, and make sure she was okay, he'd be able to get on with his life. Or maybe not. Lothal was not a quick trip from Takodana, though, so he had some time to decide. Regardless of Hera, he didn't have a choice about going to Lothal. If he didn't find this Arkanian guy for Dravik, he'd have a bounty on his head, too, and Kanan already had enough problems.

In any case, he had no intention of proceeding to anywhere directly, unless it was a bed for the night. He got up and went in search of Maz's majordomo, who could furnish said bed. As he moved through the raucous crowd, he heard Maz's words again: "Your home is waiting for you."

Hera was his home. Wherever she was, that was where he belonged. But he doubted that she was waiting for him. If she _was_ waiting for him, it was likely only so that she could punch him. He smiled. At this sad and sorry point in his life, a punch from Hera would have been nearly as good as a kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a long time to write. I just couldn't figure out how Kanan was going to end up back with Hera. Then, when I was looking at a map of the Galaxy Far Far Away, I saw Takodana. Why not have Kanan go there and meet Maz? It seems logical that he would have gone there at some point in his travels, anyway. And if anyone would be able to set him back on the right path, it would be her.


	17. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after AND.

"Well, this is certainly a change of pace," Nash Arkanian said from the common room doorway, for what had to be the five thousandth time since coming aboard the _Ghost_. He shoved Chopper away with his boot. "And not necessarily a good one. Do you think you could tell this rolling garbage can to stop zapping me?"

"Nah," Hera shrugged. "He's never liked you, and I don't blame him."

"Thanks! You've always been such a sweet girl," Nash snarked. His tall, lanky form slouched in the doorway, and he pushed his shock of black hair off his brow, smiling broadly at her.

Hera barked out a laugh. "I've never heard anyone call me 'sweet', even as a joke."

"Not even that Kanan fella you're always mooning over?"

Hera, who was sitting with her feet up, scrolling through the HoloNet on a datapad, shot a glare in his direction. "I should never have told you about him," she grumbled.

"Well, for one thing, Chopper's the one who told me, and I just annoyed you until you gave me more information. For another, I've known you for a million years. I would have known there was something romantic afoot," Nash said, arching an eyebrow.

Chopper let out his approximation of a diabolical giggle.

"There's nothing romantic _afoot_. He left. That's all there is to say about it. Chopper, you can go up to the cockpit and run the diagnostics on the sublight drive," she snapped. Chopper grumbled, waving his arms angrily, and whacked Nash's knee as he passed through the doorway.

"OW! I've always hated that droid," Nash yelped. "And that's hardly all there is to say about it. This Kanan guy probably only left because you kissed him, and then you wouldn't make good on it. Can't blame him. What's _really_ interesting to me is how angry you get about it. It's too bad he left; I would have loved to meet the guy who finally got to Hera Syndulla. By the way, can we just acknowledge how great I am at getting you to talk about things you don't want to talk about?"

"Sure. While we're at it, let's also acknowledge the fact that I have no problem shooting you, right here and now."

"I can't think of anyone more deserving of collecting the bounty on my old noggin, so you go right ahead," he told her, grinning. "By the way, thanks again for taking me in. The Mid-Rim was getting a little too...confining."

Hera was never able to stay mad at Nash for long; he reminded her of Kanan in that way. The two men had few similarities beyond that, though. Nash's human parents had been recruited into the Free Ryloth Movement by her father not long after the Clone Wars ended, and she and Nash grew up together, causing and getting into trouble- usually just as much Hera's doing as Nash's. Nash had few loyalties and tended to be entirely motivated by credits, making him ideally suited for smuggling and getting into hot water with almost everyone he encountered. He didn't care who was doing what to whom in the Galaxy, just so long as it was profitable for him. Hera's empathy and compassion merely amused him. While he did have some scruples, and regarded himself- morally speaking- as at least one cut above the Empire, he was also a born cynic, and felt that worrying about everyone else was a waste of his time.

One of his few loyalties, however, was to Hera. And she still considered him a good friend, although they'd seen each other infrequently over the years. He was fun in small doses. Letting him live on the _Ghost_ , however, had proven to be somewhat trying. He was noisy and constantly in motion, and he always wanted to be doing something illegal for no other reason than to do something illegal. But by far the most annoying thing he did was incessantly ask inappropriate questions about Kanan.

Nash was right about one thing: Hera definitely got angry whenever he brought it up. She really would have preferred not to think about Kanan at all, and reminders always put her in a bad mood. But Nash was a habitual button-pusher, and he knew Hera well. His ability to hone in on her insecurities was one of his most uncanny and obnoxious traits. Despite his numerous irritating flaws, though, it was entirely against Hera's nature not to help a friend in need, regardless of what it brought into her life.

"I don't know what you did this time, but it must've been something pretty bad," Hera said.

Nash shrugged. "I stole from a gambler. It's not that big a deal, he's just the worst. He has absolutely no sense of humor about anything. And he cheats. Trust me, you'd approve of my stealing from him, if you ever had to spend any time in the same room with him."

"I tend to set my sights a little higher," she told him.

"That's right! Hera against the Empire, fighting the good fight...on Lothal. Are you making much headway these days?"

Hera rolled her eyes. "Not with you around, I'm not.'

" _Lothal_ , of all places," Nash complained. "What are you doing on this cultural backwater, anyway?"

"You've asked me that before," Hera said.

"About a hundred times! But I have yet to get a decent answer."

Hera liked Lothal, but she'd never stuck so closely to the planet than she had in the past four months. And that, unfortunately, had nothing to do with Lothal, and everything to do with hoping Kanan would come back.

It had not taken her long to realize one very important fact: She missed Kanan horribly. Helping Nash out was just as much a response to her loneliness as it was to her friend's predicament.

"Lothal is a good place to lie low, Nash. That's a particularly important thing for you at the moment."

He shrugged. "So you keep saying. But, stars, it's _boring_. What did you and Kanan do with all your downtime on this boring planet, anyway? Don't spare me any details."

Hera sighed heavily. "Believe it or not, there's actually a lot of work to do on this ship. If you helped me occasionally, you'd know more about that."

"Do you really expect me to believe that all you two did was fix this ship? Is this guy good-looking, or what?"

Hera involuntarily recalled Kanan's face, his beautiful blue-green eyes and his smile. She felt her cheeks get warm. "Yes," she blurted, without actually meaning to. She scowled at her mistake, knowing exactly what was coming.

Nash's eyebrows climbed into his hairline, and he grinned, thoroughly enjoying Hera's discomfort. "Ah. And he'd have to be dead not to find you attractive. So let me see if I'm understanding this correctly: you were alone for months with a guy you _clearly_ like a lot, who most likely felt the same way about you, and your cabins were right across the corridor from each other...but all that happened was _one kiss_?"

"Yes," Hera growled. "Not everyone hops into bed with any remotely attractive man, Nash. And, anyway, _he left._ And that's all I'm going to say about it, so drop it."

Nash's face softened a little as he looked at her. "Hmmm. My guess is that there was a _little_ more going on between you and Kanan than just mutual attraction. But, Hera...it's okay. You know that, right? It's okay to love someone- even if it's just for one night. Life is short, old friend. We don't know what will happen tomorrow. If you found someone you really love, you shouldn't let that go. You should dive in, head first."

Hera didn't have the energy to be angry anymore. "I didn't let it go. He did. And it's not that simple. And...diving in isn't safe. Love and the Empire don't mix."

"Are you kidding? The Empire is the best reason there is to hang on to whatever love you can get. Maybe your situation with Kanan is the most complicated thing in the world- although I really doubt that- but in the long run, it's simple. Get what love you can, while you can, before someone takes it away from you," Nash told her, almost looking serious for once.

Hera was surprised. "Does this mean you actually have a heart?"

"Nope," Nash chuckled. "Well, I have one for you. You've always been there for me. Remember the time we stole that little supply ship and crashed it, and you said it was your idea?"

"It _was_ my idea," Hera laughed.

"I encouraged it. I thought your father was going to kill both of us. Speaking of ideas, it just so happens that I've got something that'll keep me from going crazy with boredom, _and_ it'll give you something to do that hurts the Empire."

"You really shouldn't be doing anything like that right now," Hera said, dubious.

"The Empire isn't looking for me," Nash said.

"Not yet," Hera replied. "But I'm sure they'll be after you soon enough."

Nash shrugged. "It's nothing big. It's nothing they'll miss, but it's definitely something that you can give to those sad sacks over in that little hovel of a refugee camp."

Hera perked up. "They started calling it Tarkintown, isn't that great? So what is it?"

"Tarkintown is fitting. Like I said, it's nothing big. Just some supplies inbound from the Core, for the garrison here on Lothal. I'm thinking maybe a hijacking might be fun," Nash said, a big grin spreading over his face.

"That is not a two person job, Nash."

"How about a mid-air heist? You drive, I hijack...well, yeah, maybe not. But Imperial supply convoys in the Outer Rim, especially this part of the Outer Rim, are never heavily manned…"

Hera couldn't help thinking that they could have pulled it off with Kanan. "We need more than just you, me and Chopper."

"Are you counting the droid as a person? The droid doesn't count."

Hera ignored him. "Forget it. It's too risky."

"Suit yourself. Hey, let's go to the Pit Stop and get a few drinks," Nash suggested.

"Pass."

"Come on! You're wallowing, waiting around for this guy to come back," Nash said, pushing buttons again.

Hera didn't feel like playing. "I have work to do here, since no one but Chopper is helping me maintain this ship."

Nash shrugged and headed for the cargo bay. "You know I'm terrible at fixing things, Hera. Well, I'll see you later...that is, unless I find a companion at the Pit Stop. Gotta find love where you can!"

Hera rolled her eyes, listening to him sing an old love song from Ryloth as he headed out of the ship. As much of a pain as he was, it was nice to have someone else around. The month before Nash arrived on Lothal had been one of Hera's worst. She'd kept herself busy, but she spent a lot of time thinking about Kanan. She should have been angry with him. She _was_ angry. But, mostly, she just wanted him to come back.

Hera also thought quite a bit about him telling her he loved her. She'd suspected it, but hearing him actually say it left her reeling. She thought about what Nash said about love. He was a hedonistic idiot, but maybe his point was valid. Or maybe she just wanted an excuse to let herself love Kanan back. It didn't matter, either way, though. He was gone, and knowing him, he was probably drunk in a cantina right that very second, in the company of some other woman. Hera had never felt jealousy before, but she burned with it now, thinking of a completely imaginary woman with Kanan.

She chastised herself for being ridiculous. Kanan wasn't coming back, and she was just going to have to get on with her life, the way she always did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with this character awhile back, and he sort of became this stand-in for me, in a way. Not that I'm anything like him, but the things he says are the same things I want to say to Hera...and also about the relationship we see on SWR. I suspect that the decision to not blatantly disclose a relationship between Hera and Kanan on the show was probably deliberate. And ultimately, it was kind of a genius move. But it's not one that I agree with. For one thing, despite all appearances, I'm not really a shipper. If there's going to be a will-they-won't-they scenario, I prefer it to be one that serves the overall story and character development in some way. I really like established relationships better- particularly functional ones- and Hera and Kanan arguably have the most functional relationship of any in Star Wars. There's no good reason why the audience can't know exactly what that relationship is. And, in fact, we need to see more functional relationships on TV- especially on shows that are supposed to appeal to kids. So I really think it was a big misstep to "downplay" (I'm using quotes because I actually think it was deliberate) whatever they have with each other. Their relationship is important- it's the foundation of the entire show, that these two idiots got together and started this family. **Climbs down from soapbox** Anyway, Hera needed a friend to tell her what's what. And, of course, this guy also happens to be the same guy Kanan is looking for. Shenanigans are likely to ensue.


	18. The Awkward Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after AND (still)

Kanan was sitting at the far end of Old Jho's bar, in a seat that gave him the best vantage point for seeing who came through the door. He wasn't sure what his plan was in sitting there- was he going to dive behind the bar, if Hera happened to walk in? He felt like an idiot, and worse, the possibility of running into her had completely frayed his nerves. Some Jedi he was.

The Pit Stop was unusually busy, so Kanan hadn't had a chance to talk to Jho yet, although he'd gotten a very enthusiastic wave when Jho saw him. Jho had a droid bartender helping out, and the droid was the one who took Kanan's drink order. Besides the crowd and the droid, not much seemed to have changed, though.

Old Jho finally got away from the pair of belligerently drunk Ugnaughts he'd been squealing and snorting back and forth with for the past fifteen minutes, and he made a beeline for Kanan.

"Kanan! Good to see you! Where've you been?" he said. The volume on his translator had been turned up so that he could be heard over the racket in the bar, and it made his voice tinny.

"Nice to see you too, Jho," Kanan replied, smiling at the Ithorian. "I had to leave Lothal for awhile. Business has really picked up, though, eh? Are you giving away free drinks?"

"You know, I think it's the Empire. They're good for business, but bad for everything else- I'd rather things went back to the way they were. Lothalians are getting kicked off their land and squeezed by the Empire, so they're spending their few spare credits here to drink away their sorrows. And I _have_ been giving free drinks to some people who can't afford them otherwise."

Kanan nodded. "The Empire definitely makes people want to drink more, that's for sure. I'm sorry to hear about what's been going on here, though."

"There's not a lot we can do about it, so we're just trying to help each other out. It's sure nice to see you back, though. I've seen Hera a couple of times, and she didn't seem to want to talk about where you were, so I didn't keep asking. Thought maybe you two had a falling out," Jho said, giving Kanan a look.

"I wouldn't say that exactly," Kanan replied.

Jho peered over Kanan's left shoulder. "Oh, here comes Rotta the Hutt."

"What?!" Kanan said in surprise, turning to look.

"Well, that's what he told me his name was, after a few Fogblasters," Jho said.

The man walking towards them was the opposite of a Hutt: tall and good-looking, with carelessly messy black hair. He was wearing typical smuggler's garb, but of a quality indicating it had more likely been purchased on a Core world, with a long leather jacket over the ensemble.

Most interestingly, at least as far as Kanan was concerned, he bore a striking resemblance to the Holo image Dravik had sent him of Nash Arkanian. He hadn't expected to find his target in the first place he looked, so this was a huge stroke of luck.

"Jho, my good barman! I'll take another one of those outstanding Fogblasters, if you've got a minute," Arkanian said, as he reached the bar. He was loud enough to be heard clearly over the din in the cantina, and he spoke with rakish confidence.

"Sure thing, Rotta," Jho said, shrugging almost imperceptibly at Kanan as he moved away to make the drink.

'Rotta' let out a chuckle and leaned on the bar, turning his head towards Kanan. "My name isn't really Rotta," he declared, slurring the words together a bit.

"Is that right?" Kanan replied, feigning interest.

Arkanian nodded, eyes slightly unfocused. "It seemed like a fitting alias, since so many people have told me that I'm a slimy slug. You're a handsome devil. What's _your_ name?"

"I don't see why I should tell you mine, if you're not going to tell me yours."

"That's fair," Arkanian said, his face brightening as Jho delivered his drink. "Want one?" he asked, indicating his glass.

Kanan shrugged. He never turned down a free drink.

"Another one for my new friend, here, Jho...if you don't mind."

Jho shot Kanan a look. "Coming up," he muttered, passing the order over to his droid so that he could break apart the two now fighting Ugnaughts.

Arkanian looked over at the Ugnaughts, bemused. "Now, that's something you don't see every day," he said, pointing them out to Kanan as if believing Kanan had somehow not heard the ear-piercing squeals.

"Those two are here a lot," Kanan said. "And they're usually either fighting or singing."

"Ugnaughts singing! Let's hope we don't hear any of _that_ tonight. Sounds like you've been here often, but I've never seen you before." Akanian took a big gulp of his drink, and his eyes didn't even water. Either Jho was making his Fogblasters weaker, or Arkanian was used to drinking beverages that were the alcoholic equivalent of swallowing a thermal detonator.

"I haven't been on Lothal in a few months," Kanan answered.

"You're a cagey sort, I can tell," Arkanian said, narrowing his eyes. "But here comes your drink! Maybe you just need a little social lubricant."

Jho's droid rolled over and placed a glass on the bar in front of Kanan. "For Master Jho's friend Kanan, with his compliments," the droid announced. So much for keeping his name to himself.

Arkanian stared at the droid, and then at Kanan. And then he burst out laughing, slapping his hand on the bar. "Oh, this is truly a fantastic evening! Your name is Kanan?"

Kanan raised an eyebrow, mystified. "Yeah. So?"

"Oh, you know...just plain old curiosity. You seem like an intriguing fellow," Arkanian said, grinning as he grabbed a bar stool and plonked himself down in it.

Arkanian's evident (if inexplicable) interest in Kanan certainly made things easier on him, as far as bounty hunting went. That being said, he generally preferred not to become drinking buddies with his targets. But a drunk target was almost always easier to deal with than a sober one, so he decided to let the situation play itself out.

"You seem like an intriguing fellow, yourself," Kanan said, since playing it out, in this case, evidently meant pointless small talk. "I've never seen you here before, are you new to Lothal?"

Arkanian chuckled. "I must have gotten here not long after you left, I'd imagine. I'm just here visiting an old friend. I was getting awfully bored, but things just recently took a very interesting turn."

"Yeah? How so?" Kanan asked.

"I'd love to tell you, but that would ruin the surprise."

Dravik had mentioned that Nash Arkanian was something of an eccentric rascal, and that seemed like a pretty accurate description so far. Despite that, or maybe because of it, Kanan was enjoying himself. It was really unfortunate that he'd have to capture the guy and haul him back to a sleemo like Dravik.

"There's a surprise?" Kanan asked, with what was very likely a baffled smile.

"You better believe it! You're going to love it." Arkanian smacked Kanan's shoulder for emphasis and took another swig from his glass.

"I guess I'll take your word for it. Can you give me a hint?"

Arkanian scrunched his brow, thinking. After a moment, he said, "No. I can't think of a damn thing that wouldn't give it away. So what's your story, Kanan? What do you do for a living? I'm guessing it's something dangerous and not boring."

"It's not as boring as I'd like it to be," Kanan replied.

"Interesting answer. That means it's got some element that you don't enjoy."

Kanan nodded. "That's true. I used to have a job where I helped people, and now I'm doing the opposite."

Arkanian scratched his stubbled chin. "Ah, you like helping people. My friend is a do-gooder type, too. You should meet; I think the two of you would _really_ hit it off."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not here for very long."

"That's too bad. Got a girlfriend you have to get back to?" Arkanian said slyly.

Kanan didn't immediately answer, and the length of his pause was apparently very interesting to Arkanian, who watched him with glittering, intent black eyes. "No girlfriend," Kanan finally said.

"You sound a little bitter about that, mate! Well, no need to worry. You can definitely come and meet my friend. You won't be disappointed. This cantina is too crowded and noisy anyway, and I think we're the only two good-looking people in here. Time for a change of scenery!"

Kanan weighed his options. He had no intention of killing Nash Arkanian; he didn't kill anyone unless it was a matter of his own survival. He guessed that Arkanian probably was less troubled by killing than he was, though, and would definitely put up a fight. In any case, he wouldn't be able to capture him inside the cantina. He decided to go along with it.

"All right, let's go meet this friend of yours. How far is it?"

Arkanian let out a giggle of sheer glee. Kanan suspected he might be some kind of lunatic.

"Not far at all! The ship is in Jho's spaceport across the way." Arkanian hopped off his stool and began impatiently shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for Kanan to finish his drink.

Kanan took his last throat-searing gulp and said, "Lead the way, Rotta!"

As soon as Kanan stood, he realized that he'd maybe had a bit more to drink than he'd intended. That presented a problem. Maybe he'd capture Nash Arkanian tomorrow, instead. He followed the tall, drunk lunatic out of the Pit Stop, waving at Jho as he passed.

Arkanian was practically dancing his way down the road towards Jhothal's small spaceport, singing in a language that was vaguely familiar, but that Kanan wasn't able to place. He couldn't help but chuckle at the madman's antics.

As they entered the spaceport, though, the smile slid off Kanan's face.

There was the _Ghost_ , looking just as gorgeous as the first time he'd seen her. He stopped, stock-still, and stood there gaping at the ship.

Arkanian also stopped, watching him closely. "Nice ship, huh? My friend, you know...she's got excellent taste. In ships, and friends, and men, too."

Kanan's mind, already very muddled by alcohol, seemed unable to process everything that was happening. Men? Nash Arkanian was Hera's friend? And he was living on the _Ghost_? Kanan felt a sudden stab of jealousy; she was already living and working with some other guy? Granted, he didn't seem at all like her type, but…

Arkanian snapped his fingers in front of Kanan's face. "Hey. You there?"

"I'm not sure," Kanan said. "I should go…"

"Come on. Everything's going to be fine. Trust me," Arkanian said with a knowing grin, heading towards the cargo bay ramp. Kanan felt his own feet move to follow, as if by their own volition. As he walked into the familiar ship, his stomach felt like a gundark was in there making a nest.

"Honey, I'm home!" Arkanian hollered, the second he was inside the cargo bay. He immediately started climbing the ladder towards the cockpit, and Kanan followed, not really knowing what else to do.

As confused and chaotic as he felt, he still sensed her immediately, and he moved in her direction as if compelled. And then he heard her lovely voice, sounding completely exasperated:

"Do you know how late it is, Nash? Why are you shouting? I should get Chopper to zap you."

The two men were walking down the corridor towards the cockpit now. "Keep that blasted droid away from me," Arkanian grumbled. "You're not asleep, so what difference does it make? But even if you were, I'd wake you up for this. I brought a friend home, and I want you to meet him."

It suddenly dawned on Kanan, much too late, that Nash Arkanian had been fully aware of who Kanan was the entire time. More confusing information to process, and he was far too distracted by the Twi'lek who was currently only meters away to worry about it.

Akanian stopped in the doorway of the cockpit, but Kanan hung back, just out of sight of Hera.

"What friend?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Arkanian looked over his shoulder at Kanan, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and yanked him forward. "This friend. I think you two have met!"

Hera was sitting in her pilot's chair, and when she saw Kanan, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. They stared fixedly at each other for several long seconds.

Arkanian sighed, as if he was getting bored. "Well? One of you idiots had better say something," he said loudly.

Hera suddenly jumped out of her seat and crossed the space between herself and Kanan in a fraction of a second, reaching up and throwing her arms around his neck. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected at all, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet, hugging her hard.

After a few moments, she said, "Okay, put me down."

He did as requested, and felt her cheek brush against his as she loosened her arms from around his neck. As soon as she was free, she balled up her fist and punched him right in the eye.

 _That_ was the reaction he was expecting. Kanan saw a brilliant explosion and felt a sharp burst of pain that slammed into his brain like an asteroid hitting a planet. He cursed and clutched his head.

"OW! Hera…!" Kanan yelped.

Nash guffawed. "I didn't think this could get _more_ entertaining, but Hera Syndulla never fails to deliver!"

"Shut up, Nash," Hera growled. "Do something useful and go get Kanan a bacta cold pack for his eye."

"C'mon, Hera, don't send me away when things are just getting good…" Nash complained.

"Go!" Hera barked. As soon as he was through the door, she closed it and locked it. She pulled out the cockpit's first aid kit, flipped it open, and took out a bacta pack. "Sit," she told Kanan, pointing to the co-pilot chair.

He sat.

"You deserved that, you know," she said, handing him the bacta pack. Out of his good eye, he looked at her standing with her fists on her hips, scowling at him.

"I know. Stars, it's good to see you," he said in a low tone. He gingerly pressed the bacta against his eye and sighed at the pain-relieving coolness.

Hera's face softened. "It's good to see you, too," she murmured. "But what are you doing with Nash?"

"That's sort of...complicated. And I could ask you the same thing."

"Complicated how?"

He cleared his throat. "I assume you know that there's a bounty on his head?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes. That's why he's here. Avoiding bounty hunters."

"Well...I'm the bounty hunter."

Her mouth fell open. "What?! You better start from the beginning."

"There's not much to tell. I owe a lot of credits to a gambler named Ino Dravik, and I couldn't pay him, so I'm working off my debt by doing his dirty work for him."

"Are you serious? Kanan…" Hera sounded disappointed in him. He wasn't thrilled with it, either.

"Yeah. I know. I've been...well, the past few months haven't really been my best," he said, not looking at her.

"They weren't mine, either," she said. "I wish you hadn't left. But I'm glad you came back."

He wanted to look at her, but couldn't. "I didn't. I mean...I did, but I was looking for Nash. I didn't come back to see you."

Hera didn't say anything for a long moment. Then: "Oh."

Kanan finally looked up at her; her face was stony.

There was a loud knock on the door. "You two are kriffing idiots," Nash called from the other side, sounding bored.

"Stop listening at the door and go away!" Hera snapped.

"Well, I thought I wasn't going to hear _any_ talking, but instead all I hear is two idiots blabbing on about nothing," Nash complained.

" _Go away!"_ Hera snarled.

She waited until she heard him shuffle away down the corridor, and then she turned back to Kanan. "So you're not staying?" she demanded.

"You seem to have moved on," he said bitingly.

"Ugh, are you jealous of Nash?" Hera rolled her eyes. "I grew up with him; he thinks of me like a sister. If he's attracted to anyone on this ship, it's probably you."

Kanan felt sheepish. "Well, I guess him calling me handsome makes a little more sense now," he mused.

"Don't get too excited about it. He's not particular; men, women, different species- he doesn't care. He likes having lots of options. Knowing him, he must have tried to hit on you," Hera said, smiling a little. 

"I don't know. Maybe he was headed in that direction, but Jho's bartender droid told him my name. And based on everything that's happened since, I'm guessing he'd heard it somewhere before," Kanan said, looking at her out of the corner of his good eye.

Hera lifted her chin, trying to cover a flash of embarrassment. "Chopper told him about you," she said.

"Okay," he said, shrugging. He didn't buy that for a second.

"What do you mean, 'okay'?"

"I mean, I think you also talked to Nash about me," Kanan said, looking up at her. "Chopper wouldn't have said anything that would have encouraged your crazy friend to drag me back here."

Hera folded her arms across her chest and huffed.

"That's a yes," Kanan chuckled.

Hera ignored him. "So what are you going to do? I'm not going to let you capture Nash, even if I do want him off my ship."

"I don't know what I'm going to do. If I don't bring him back, though, I'll have a bounty on my head, too."

"It's an awkward dilemma!" Nash called from outside the door.

Hera groaned, punching the button to open the door. "You're the worst," she said, glaring at him.

"I wouldn't have come back to listen, if I thought you two were doing something other than just talking. It's _so boring_ that you're just talking. You haven't seen each other for months. Isn't there something else you'd rather be doing? Kanan knows what I'm talking about," Nash said, pointing at Kanan and winking.

Hera turned her glare on Kanan, and he threw up the hand that wasn't holding the bacta pack against his eye. He did know exactly what Nash was talking about, but there was zero chance he was going to admit it.

"You're both drunk, and it's late, so there's no point in discussing this tonight. Both of you, go to bed," Hera ordered, pointing in the direction of the cabins.

"What are you going to do?" Nash wanted to know.

"None of your business! Get out and go to bed."

"Yes, _mother_ ," Nash sing-songed. To Kanan, he said, "She's always been like this, ever since she was a wee kid. I've got some great stories to tell you!"

"Out!" Hera growled. They got out, and she shut and locked the cockpit door behind them.

Nash pointed at Kanan's old cabin door. "That's still you. She wouldn't let me sleep in that one. What a couple of saps you two are. Really, you're kind of made for each other."

Kanan scratched his beard, feeling rueful.

"Here's the thing, though, mate," Nash said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I care about roughly two people in this dump of a Galaxy, and one of them is Hera. I didn't like what I saw in the last couple of months; I think you hurt her pretty deeply by leaving. So you better think really hard about leaving her again, because I'll do worse than just black your eye. I know you don't want to leave. Any dope, even a black-hearted dope like me, can see that you're crazy about her."

"It's complicated-" Kanan started.

Nash cut him off. "It's not complicated. You love her, she loves you. There's nothing complicated about that. What a pair of idiots."

Kanan didn't answer; Nash had a point.

"Anyway, leave your door unlocked tonight," Nash said, elbowing him in the side. "You never know!"

Kanan knew Hera well enough to know that she wasn't going to visit him in the middle of the night, especially not when he was drunk, and she was still angry with him. But he'd also never locked his door.

He walked into his old cabin and flopped down on the bunk, doubting he'd be able to sleep. But after a few minutes, he realized that he was home, and his eyelids drifted closed.


	19. Better Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the last chapter...

Hera yawned and walked towards the galley in pursuit of her morning caf. She had not gotten much sleep the night before; unlike the two men currently snoring blissfully away on her ship, she hadn't been bashed on Jho's Fogblasters when she went to bed. Instead, thanks to Kanan, she'd been wide awake, and once again trying to get a handle on her feelings. She'd mostly failed.

There was no way around it anymore; they needed to talk.

At the entrance to the common room, she stopped, pulled up short by the sight of Kanan sitting at the dejarik table. Make that only _one_ man snoring blissfully away, then. He sat with his head tipped back, eyes closed. His reddish-brown hair was loose, and his arms were folded across his chest. She couldn't tell if he was asleep or not, so she stepped as lightly as possible towards the galley.

"Hera," he said, not opening his eyes. She'd missed hearing his voice, especially the particular timbre he seemed to use only when saying her name. It was soft, low, deep, and full of tenderness. It was amazing, really, that he could get all of that into one small word.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't. I was waiting for you to get up." He raised his head and opened his eyes. His left eye, the one she'd punched, was only a bit swollen, and an interesting shade of dark reddish purple. It made his eyes look more green than blue.

"It looks pretty rough," she said. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. Like you said, I deserved it," he smiled ruefully at her.

"Does it hurt?"

"It's more like a dull throb. I've had a lot worse," he chuckled.

She smiled. "I know you have. Mind if I sit?"

"Of course not. The closer, the better."

"Same Kanan," she said, sitting about arm's length away from him. Pretty close, by their standards.

"Not the same Kanan. And not the same Hera, I think, either." He studied her face.

"We should talk. Preferably while Nash is still unconscious," she said.

Kanan pushed his hair back with one hand, which was distracting. She forced herself to focus.

"You're right," he said. "I was thinking the same thing. Apparently we're both idiots. And even though Nash clearly thinks talking is overrated, in this case, I'm inclined to disagree."

Hera rolled her eyes. " _Nash_ is an idiot; you should take everything he says with a whole crate full of salt."

Kanan shrugged. "He makes some good points."

"Occasionally," she agreed.

"Listen, Hera...I'm sorry that I left the way I did. I didn't really think about the consequences; I was trying so hard to protect you that I didn't realize I was hurting you," Kanan said, avoiding her gaze.

She sighed. "You can't protect me, Kanan. I know you think that you were putting me in danger by staying with me. And you're right- it _is_ a risk. But it's one that I'm willing to take. I'm the only one who can decide which risks are worth it to me, and which aren't. You have to find a way to be okay with my decisions."

"It's hard for me to be okay with decisions that might end in you being tortured and killed. After what happened on Nar Shaddaa…I just couldn't take that chance, Hera. I don't care about what the Empire might do to me, but if they hurt you..."

"They might hurt me. It could happen, whether you're with me or not. If anything, I'm more of a risk to you than you are to me...if they catch me, they'd find out about you."

"I don't care about that. Well, yeah, I mean...of course, I _do_ care...but it's more important to me that you're not captured in the first place," he said.

"As long as the Empire exists, so does the possibility of getting caught. These are the times we live in. I can't unknow what I know about you, and even if you're not with me and I give you up under torture, they'll know who they're looking for. At least if you're with me, you'll know that you need to change your name and hide," she told him.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You think I wouldn't come after you, if they captured you?"

"Are you really that stupid?" she demanded, scowling.

"Well, that's just not nice," he muttered.

Hera almost laughed. "It would be stupid to try to rescue me from the Empire."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't try it, anyway...so I guess I am that stupid. But let me ask you this: would _you_ try to rescue _me_?" Kanan asked, eyebrows raised.

Hera didn't say anything for a few seconds, thinking. "Honestly? I probably would. I guess I'm stupid, too."

"Yeah. You are. You'd have much less of a chance of success trying to rescue me than I would trying to rescue you."

Hera's scowl returned. "Is that so?"

Kanan's narrowed his eyes. "Yes. So you shouldn't try it."

"Stop trying to protect me!" she snapped.

"I can't help it!" he growled, with a pained look on his face.

Hera felt her annoyance melt away. "We're having a really stupid argument right now," she said.

The pained expression vanished, and he grinned. "Hopefully the first of many?"

"Does that mean you're staying?"

He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Well, it's been a rough few months. I really missed this ship. And the pilot."

"I didn't have the best time without you, either. You and I are better when we're together." As she said it, she knew it was true.

"Yeah. We are," Kanan agreed. They gazed at each other for several seconds, just like the two idiots Nash thought they were.

"I know you want to protect me," Hera said. "But it's counterproductive to keeping either of us safe, if you completely lose it when some sleemo touches me." She quirked her lips into a sly smile.

Abashed, he hesitated, and then said, "I can't guarantee anything, unless that sleemo is me."

Hera laughed, her cheeks warming.

Kanan averted his gaze and hesitated again before speaking. "Actually, if that sleemo _was_ me, I probably _would_ lose it," he amended. "But not from anger."

Hera watched him, and her face felt suddenly hot. "That wouldn't be the worst thing," she said in a quiet voice.

His raised his head, his eyes searching hers. "Do you remember what I said before I left?"

"Which part?"

"You know which part."

"Yes. Of course I remember," she replied, looking away.

Kanan paused, then said, "Any thoughts?"

Hera lifted her eyes and looked at him, not bothering to hide her feelings. Why delay what seemed inevitable, at this point?

"I have a lot of thoughts on that, all the time," she said, the tone of her voice sounding alarmingly sweet to her own ear cones. Hera realized, finally, that she didn't care. She spent all her time fighting the Empire, and maybe she just didn't have the energy to expend on fighting her feelings for Kanan Jarrus anymore. More importantly, she just didn't want to. Nash was right, damn him: love was a good thing. It made the fight against the Empire mean something more than just vanquishing evil and freeing the Galaxy. Love gave people hope.

He beamed at her, smiling. "That sounds positive; I'm all ears, if you'd like to share your thoughts with me."

She swallowed hard, scooting closer to him on the bench. Their eyes met and locked. His eyes were very green right then, with just a hint of blue...and so full of love for her. How had she not noticed it before this moment? She lifted her hand and moved her fingertips lightly over the damage she'd done to his eye, and then she touched his hair. He gazed intently at her, as her face moved closer. "I'm sorry I punched you," she murmured, but she was sure that they both heard what she really meant.

Kanan nodded, and then he took her face in his hands, leaning in and brushing his lips against hers. His thumbs rubbed gently across her cheekbones. She let out a little involuntary gasp of desire, and his restraint seemed to dissolve; he pulled her closer and crushed his mouth against hers. Her lips parted and she kissed him with an urgency that matched his. His hands traveled down her lekku to her waist, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. She shivered and reached around his neck, twining his hair between her fingers, tugging on it gently. Hera lost all track of time and sense of herself; the only thing she was aware of was Kanan. Entire days could have gone by, and she wouldn't have cared in the least.

" _Good morning,"_ Nash said from the common room doorway, drawing both words out in a droll voice.

Hera and Kanan pulled themselves apart, giving each other awkward smiles. She would have had no problem shooting Nash at that moment, though, and her smile turned to a stony glare as her eyes moved from Kanan to Nash.

Nash knew it, too. "It's a good thing you don't have your blaster handy, eh, Hera? I admit," he continued, "I'm not thrilled to have interrupted a moment of passion- or whatever passes for passion, with you two. But I need caf, and I need it now."

Kanan laughed, and Hera shot him a look. "Don't encourage him!"

"He seems to act this way with or without encouragement" Kanan told her, shrugging. Then, to Nash, he said, "You're a terrible third wheel."

"You don't even know the half of it, mate! Couples all over the Galaxy _loathe_ me. I guess I can officially add you two to the list, now, too. Don't worry, though. I'll make it up to you, one of these days," Nash said airily.

"That doesn't make me feel better," Kanan said.

Nash grinned. "You're a smart man. Surprisingly, though, I give really good gifts to the few people I actually care about. Ask Hera about her V-wing."

Hera frowned. "I found it."

"We found it _together_. And I let you keep it!"

"That's only because you couldn't fix it," she said, with a sardonic laugh.

Kanan was watching them, fascinated. "Hera, I feel like I've learned more about you since last night than I have in the entire time since we met. Maybe we keep Nash around for awhile…"

Nash nodded. "I'm entertaining, that's for sure. And I have stories, mate. You want to hear about her first boyfriend? What a moof-milker that one was!"

Kanan looked interested. Hera was, at that point, so annoyed with Nash that she was willing to take things into dangerous territory; she fired a barb right at his well-hidden, shriveled black heart: "Maybe we should talk about _your_ first boyfriend instead."

Nash paled under his dark skin, the smile fading from his face. He glowered at her, and she met his gaze with an insolent look that reminded him not to mess with her.

Kanan's eyes moved back and forth between them like he was watching a game of grav-ball.

Hera and Nash had always been good at non-verbally settling arguments with glares. Hera usually won, and this instance was no exception. The ever-present cocky smile returned to Nash's face, and he nodded at her. "Well-played, as usual," he said.

"I thought you said something about desperately needing caf?" she asked, with a hard edge to her voice.

"I did! You two aren't just idiots, you're _early risers,_ too. I'm not saying another word until we've all had some caf," Nash announced.

Hera snorted. "Is that a promise?"

"No!" Nash said, stomping into the galley.

"Get us some, too," Hera called after him. His only response was a muttered string of Twi'leki curse words.

Just then, Chopper rolled in, waving his arms and griping.

"Well," Kanan said, "Now it's really a party. Where you been, Chop? Did you miss me?"

Chopper relayed that, no, he had not missed Kanan at all. But he used far coarser language to get the point across.

Hera dropped her face into her palm and sighed.

Kanan touched her shoulder, and she looked up. "You never told me your thoughts," he said, with a disappointed look.

She felt a smile spread across her lips. "I showed you, though. Wasn't that better?"

He smiled, too. "Yeah, it was pretty fantastic. But the last time you kissed me, it turned out to be a one-time thing."

"Obviously, it didn't. It just took you awhile to get the second kiss."

"Is it going to take a long time to get the third, too?"

Chopper made a disgusted noise, throwing up his arms and rolling out of the common room towards the cockpit. Shortly after he'd gone, Nash clattered back in with three cups of caf and handed them out, plunking himself down next to Hera. He wafted the caf under his nose, breathing deeply. She turned her head to very deliberately stare at him.

He looked up from his caf. "What?"

"Don't you have something else you could be doing?" she demanded.

Nash sighed deeply. "All right, _fine_. I know when I'm not wanted!"

"It doesn't really seem like you do," Kanan offered, grinning.

"All right, all right! I'm going!" Nash got up and stalked out of the common room and back towards his cabin.

Kanan laughed and slipped his arm around her waist, giving her a scorching look. "Now," he said, "About that third kiss..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a total fluff chapter. It was time for some fluff- we all deserve it! But not TOO much fluff, thanks to a certain pain in the ass. Also, the Nash saying "Good morning" part is totally cribbed from Harry Potter and the DH P1. I can't recall if it's in the book, but there's a scene in the movie where George Weasley walks in on Ginny and Harry snoggin', and it kills me every time. I had to lift it.
> 
> Listening recs: "Stand Inside Your Love"- Smashing Pumpkins
> 
> "Thin Air"- Pearl Jam
> 
> "Love Will Come Through"- Travis


	20. Whatever You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up not too long after the last chapter ends...

“We can’t spend the entire day kissing each other,” Hera murmured against Kanan’s neck. The movement of her lips and the tickle of her warm breath on his skin weren’t convincing arguments in favor of her words, however.

They were still sitting on the bench in the common room; he had no idea how long they’d been there, and he didn’t particularly care, either. Kanan pulled Hera a little closer and sighed contentedly. “I don’t see why not.”

“Well,” she said, pausing to kiss his neck, “There are annoying humans and droids aboard the ship who are bound to interrupt eventually.”

“I have a solution to that problem,” Kanan said, running his fingertips lightly along her left lek.

“Hhhnnnh?”

“I don’t mind making space in my bunk for you.”

Hera lifted her head to look at him with raised eyebrows and a dubious expression. He smiled crookedly at her, realizing his choice of wording could have been better.

“I didn’t offer space for you in my bunk for  _that_ ,” he amended quickly. “I just meant that our cabins are the only places we’re going to get any privacy from your crazy friend and your even-kriffing-crazier droid.”

One of Hera’s eyebrows lowered, but the other arched knowingly. “Sure,” she said, quirking her lips into a smirk. “I bet you’ve asked a lot of women back to your bunk, and I bet a lot of them said yes, too. I’m not a cantina floozy, Kanan.”

“I shouldn’t have told you all those stories,” he grumbled.

“No, you probably shouldn’t have,” she agreed.

“I was just trying to make you jealous. Believe me, Hera...I know you’re not a cantina floozy.”

She looked up at him, studying his face. Her eyes, which had only moments ago been half-lidded and glowing with love, were now full of questions. Their arms were still around each other, and he gave her a little squeeze.

“You’re everything to me, Hera,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

“You left, Kanan,” she reminded him. “And you didn’t even come back for  _me_ , you came back to capture Nash. I know your intentions were good, but it’s going to be hard for me to forget how it made me feel. And, you know...given the fact that you’ve created a love-them-and-leave-them reputation for yourself, you can’t really blame me for being wary that you’ll love me and leave me again, too.”

He sighed. “You were wary about me- about us-  _before_  I left, though.”

“I was. I am. There are a lot of reasons for that, some more complicated to explain than others. But I can’t fight how I feel about you anymore, right or wrong. I...don’t want to,” she said in a low tone.

Kanan narrowed his eyes slightly. “It sounds a lot like you’re saying that you’re only sitting here in my arms because you can’t help how you feel about me...not that it’s the right thing. Not that I’m the right guy.”

Hera’s eyes widened.

“I can’t really blame you for that,” he continued. “I’m  _not_  the right guy. I ran like a coward while clone troopers murdered my master; I lied and cheated and stole; I drank too much; I spent time with women who didn’t mean anything to me. I’ve killed more people than I care to admit. Everything I am is the opposite of the person I was raised to become. And because of all of that, I don’t feel like I deserve you. But, Hera...I can try. I could make you a million promises, but I won’t, because I don’t know that I can keep them. The only promise I can make, the only one I know that I can keep, is that I’ll try to be better, because you make me want to be better.”

“Kanan,” she said, “I’m glad that I make you want to be better. But I think you already  _are_ that person. You just have to let him out. Not for me, but for yourself.”

He didn’t know if he believed that he was already the person she seemed to think he was, but she was probably right about the second part. Of course, it didn’t matter. Her love was a far better motivator than his desire for personal growth would ever be.

“And it’s not that you and I together is the wrong thing,” she went on. “It’s that it feels too much like the right thing, and it...scares me.”

He smiled at her. “Me too. But your lunatic friend said something to me last night that surprisingly made a lot of sense.”

“Did he say something about how we should all get it while we can, before the Empire takes it away from us?” Hera asked, with a lopsided grin. “That’s his excuse for all his terrible behavior, you know.”

Kanan laughed. “I think that was supposed to be the gist of it, yeah. He said it wasn’t complicated. He’s right, though, isn’t he? About the Empire, too. They could take it away from us, any day.”

“Yes, I guess he’s right, much as I hate admitting that. And  _do not_  tell him I said that!” she said, uncurling an arm from around his neck to poke him in the chest with her finger.

“I’m not about to encourage that guy,” Kanan grinned. “Not that he needs it. Speaking of which, how are we going to deal with the situation with him and me? I figure the sooner we get it sorted out, the sooner he can go back to doing whatever he does, and off the  _Ghost_.”

Hera shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re going to have to sit down and figure something out, which I’m not really all that interested in doing right this minute.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “Why not?”

“Well, you know...I can’t really blame those cantina floozies. The offer to go to your cabin is pretty tempting.”

Kanan felt a fire ignite in his solar plexus. Her words and her voice were a dangerous combination. He dipped his head and pressed his lips against her cheek, and then he murmured, “I want to do whatever you want to do, Hera.”

She sighed deeply, her breath tickling his ear. “It’s not really about what I  _want_  to do. Whether it’s tempting or not, I don’t think it’s a good idea right now. You just came back. And even though I want to believe you’re going to stay this time, I need to be sure. It hurt me...I just need some time. And I don’t want to lose our friendship, either.”

He lifted his head to look at her. “I don’t think that’ll happen. I understand, though, Hera. I’m in no rush. Anyway, sitting here like this, with you in my arms- it’s more than I hoped for. Especially in the last few months...I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. I’m happier than I’ve been since...well, it’s been a long time. We can just do this forever, if you want.”

Hera laughed. “I don’t think either of us wants that,” she said slyly.

“Well, no...maybe not forever,” he agreed, smiling. “But it’s pretty great right now. Speaking of that…”

Kanan reached up to touch her face as he leaned in to kiss her. She met him halfway, pressing her lips against his. He pulled her against him, and she buried her fingers in his hair as the kiss deepened.

Hera didn’t have to worry about him leaving her again; as far as Kanan was concerned, he was home for good. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update! I wanted to write something a little more substantial, but it ended up turning into something short and pretty fluffy, with just Hera and Kanan. It was a good way to get back into writing it, though. I wanted to give them a little more time alone to work out some things with each other, and I didn't want anyone (especially Nash) interrupting again. 
> 
> I was listening to 80's love songs while writing it, so my husband'll probably say it's "sappy"- but I know you guys are here for that Kanera sap, so I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Listening rec: "Can't Fight This Feeling"- REO Speedwagon


	21. Clouds in my Caf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up not long after the previous chapter.

Hera left Kanan banging around in the galley, where he was fulfilling her request for waffles (and more caf, of course), and went in search of Nash. The morning was now progressing towards afternoon, and they’d both reluctantly agreed that it was time they got back to tasks far less pleasant than kissing each other.

As she walked down the corridor, she couldn’t help grinning like a fool. She was buoyant with happiness. And if Kanan’s inability to keep a smile off his face was any indication, he was feeling the same way.

She saw that Nash’s cabin door was wide open, and assumed that he must be in the cockpit. She walked by it, throwing a cursory glance inside as she went- and stopped dead. A few steps backward fully revealed what her quick glance had caught: Nash lying facedown on his bunk, snoring, and Chopper getting ready to zap him.

Chopper paused, utility arm poised, when he noticed Hera. She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a look.

“Well,” she said, lifting one eyebrow. “what are you waiting for?”

Chopper giggled, and promptly zapped Nash at full power.

Nash bolted up and out of the bunk, slamming his head into it as he went. “WHAT THE HELL?!” he yelled, staring around wild-eyed as he rubbed his head where he’d smacked it. Hera barked out a short laugh, and then quickly composed her face as Nash’s eyes fell on her. His gaze narrowed, then slid sideways toward Chopper. Realization, quickly followed by unhinged rage, filled his face. Chopper squawked and rolled backwards, just out of reach.

Hera smothered a grin.

“ _That’s it_ , you blasted kriffing garbage can on wheels! I’m going to disintegrate you! No! Better yet, I’m going to sell you to someone else for parts, and I’ll give them a discount to watch them slowly dismember you!” Nash roared, moving menacingly towards Chopper.

She leaped between them, blocking her little troublemaker from harm.  

“Out of my way, Hera! I’ve tolerated that piece of rolling space trash for years, and I’ve had enough!”

“You’re not doing anything to my droid,” Hera said, poking her finger into his chest. She briefly marveled at how little guilt she felt over her part in all of it.

“Oh, yes I am!”

“Oh, no you’re not,” she growled, feeling an expression on her face that Kanan referred to as her ‘Captain Hera Look’.

Chopper warbled- his approximation of a laugh- and Nash immediately turned his attention back to the object of his wrath. Hera, keen to get Chopper away from Nash, said, “Go work on the _Phantom,_ Chopper.”

Chopper chittered an insult at Nash and sped out of the cabin. Hera heard Kanan yelp from the corridor, followed by a maniacal giggle from Chopper; she guessed that Kanan must have gone out into the corridor to find out what the commotion was, and Chopper got him, too. She really needed to do _something_ about that droid.

A couple of seconds later, Kanan materialized at the cabin door, rubbing his thigh and wincing.  

“Uh...what’s going on?” Kanan asked warily, as he regarded her and Nash standing in the middle of the cabin, glaring at each other.

“I’m going to destroy Hera’s evil droid, that’s what’s going on,” Nash snarled, his black eyes glittering.

She planted her fists on her hips and drew her eyebrows further together, letting her expression do the talking. Nash never could withstand her looks for long, and sure enough, she saw the anger in his eyes waver briefly with uncertainty. It was only a matter of time before she won this battle.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kanan shrug. “I’m in favor of Chopper’s destruction,” he said.

“I know you are, mate,” Nash said, pointing at Kanan, and clearly thrilled to have a reason to look away from Hera’s glare. “You’re a reasonable sort of person, unlike my oldest and dearest friend here, who would happily allow that damned droid to zap my rear end to a crisp.”

Kanan laughed, causing Hera to shoot a scathing look in his direction. His smile faded. “I made everyone waffles…” he muttered lamely.

Nash’s interest was instantly piqued. “Did you say waffles? I can destroy the little mechanical monster later.” And with that, he shoved past Hera and Kanan, heading towards the galley.

Hera turned towards Kanan, who looked bemused. “Apparently Nash likes waffles,” he said.

She shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

“Good point. So...what did I miss?”  

She felt her face break into a grin as she recalled the incident. “I let Chopper zap him.”

Kanan’s eyebrows shot up, and he guffawed. “That wasn’t very nice of you,” he said, grinning back at her.

“He deserved it. He’s been on my ship irritating me for too long. This morning was the last straw.”

Kanan shook his head, chuckling. “I really hope Chopper recorded it, because I’ve got to see that.”

“It was pretty enjoyable,” she affirmed. “I'm glad the waffles diffused the situation, though. Speaking of which, we better go get something to eat before it’s all gone. And we need to figure out what to do. I’d rather not have _two_ people with bounties on their heads living on my ship,” she said, giving him a little shove to propel him out the cabin door.

Kanan didn’t budge. “Just a heads up, Hera: if he already ate all my waffles, I’m turning him in for that bounty,” he said, attempting to look serious, and failing miserably.

She laughed and shoved him again, and this time, he started moving. “ _Your_ waffles?”

“I made them, didn’t I?”

They found Nash sitting at the table in the galley, rapidly demolishing a plateful of syrup-drenched golden triangles. He looked up at them as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. “Sorted it all out then, have you?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at them. “And by that I mean-”

“We know what you mean,” Hera cut him off.

“There’s no need for that tone! I’m just happy for you two crazy kids, that’s all. You know me, I’m all about love. Sit down. Have some waffles.”

Hera sat down across from Nash while Kanan got their plates. “So,” she said. “What are we going to do about this situation with you and Kanan?”

Nash shrugged. “Beats me. I suppose we should kill him.”

“Dravik?” Hera asked.

“No. Kanan.” Nash grinned at Hera’s look of exasperation. “Yes, _of course_ , Ino Dravik. We should kill him, because he’s a bastard.”

Kanan set a plate of waffles in front of Hera, and then sat down with his own. “What, exactly, did you do to him? He really hates you.”

“I took something from him.”

“What did you take?” Hera demanded. Then, to Kanan, she said, “He refuses to tell me.”

Nash sighed. “I only refused to tell you because I didn’t want to hear Mother Hera’s disapproval. But, if you must know...it was Sarat. And an obscenely large sum of credits...but I think Dravik is less upset about the credits.”

Hera felt her brow gather into a mighty scowl, and her stomach started to churn.

“Is that...a person?” Kanan asked, taking note of the thunderous expression on her face.

“Hera doesn’t consider him a person,” Nash said brightly, “but yes.”

“That’s because he’s _not_ a person,” she growled, staring at Nash. “He’s a horrible creature who profits on the misery of others.”

Nash gazed back her for a long moment. “Well, I don’t entirely disagree with you, you know. Sarat has some issues.”

“ _Some_ issues?” she spat, furious. “And if you don’t disagree with me, why do you keep going back to him?”

Kanan looked deeply confused. “Can someone please fill me in?”

“He’s just an old friend of ours,” Nash said, in a tone that was somehow both excessively cheerful and bitterly sarcastic.

Hera groaned. “He’s a friend of _yours_. I never liked him. And you might as well tell Kanan the truth.”

Nash looked at Kanan. “Well, Kanan, the truth is that Sarat is a senator from Ryloth and, unfortunately, my occasional romantic partner.”

“He’s _supposed to_ represent Ryloth in the Imperial Senate,” she broke in. “But, instead, he’s happily continuing a long and unpleasant history of corruption in politics on our home planet. He lied and cheated his way into the Senate. He sold out his family and friends- he even got some of them killed. He turned his back on his planet and his people to work for the Empire. Everyone hates him. He can’t set foot on Ryloth without risking his life.”

Nash was looking down as his plate. “Like I said, he has some issues,” he muttered.

“Are you kidding?!” Hera burst out. “I thought this was over with. You said it was over.”

“Well, I ran into him, and it turned out that it wasn’t.”

Kanan cleared his throat. “I guess I’m not clear on how this guy resulted in you having a bounty on your head.”

Nash shrugged. “Well, he’s a particularly good-looking Twi’lek, and he’s a corrupt senator. He’s very popular among those of us who lack scruples. Lucky for him, because he thoroughly enjoys hanging around with unscrupulous types. The richer, the better- and Ino Dravik is excessively wealthy.” Nash paused, rubbing the stubble on his angular jaw. “Of course, money is no match for a long history and a pretty face. Ino was _not_ happy about me leaving the casino with his trophy.”

Hera rolled her eyes, ignoring most of what he’d just said. “We grew up with him,” she told Kanan. “He was awful then, and he’s even worse now. Now, he’s the shame of Ryloth. Isn’t that right, Nash?”

“You make it sound like Sarat works for the Empire, like he cares about all that. Some people don’t care about the Empire, Hera. For some people, it’s just a job,” Nash said.

“He’s the senator from Ryloth! Maybe he doesn’t care about the Empire, but he should care about Ryloth!” Hera could hear her voice getting louder, but she didn’t care. Few things made her as angry as Nash’s on-again-off-again relationship with that creep.

“Well...he doesn’t. He cares about himself. And that’s pretty much it,” Nash said, a bitter edge to his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at Nash. “He doesn’t care about you, either. When are you going to see that?”

“He cares about me because he cares about what he gets from me.”

“What do you get from him?”

Nash didn’t answer, and instead folded an entire waffle into his mouth, staring at her with round eyes as he chewed.

She sighed. Nash was impossible about many things; he was utterly intractable when it came to the senator from Ryloth.

Hera looked at Kanan; he looked back at her and shrugged.

“All right, so what do we do about this stupid mess, then?” she asked. “You clearly can’t do much about returning the sleemo, but you can return the credits.”

Nash roared laughter. “Even if I hadn’t already spent those credits- which I did, with Sarat’s help, I might add- do you really think that’ll do it? All will be forgiven?”

“Probably not,” Kanan said. “From what I saw, he’s not really that kind of guy.”

Nash nodded. “He’s not. Which is why we’ll have to kill him to resolve this issue.”

“No,” Hera said. “We need to at least _try_ to come up with something other than outright murder, Nash.”

“We could always just turn him in, and then take a nice vacation with the bounty,” Kanan said, grinning at her.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled back. “It’s really tempting...” she said.

“Oh, please. You’re not going to turn me in!” Nash said, rolling his eyes. “You two are noble saps. Don’t waste your breath.”

“Well, I mean...we _could_ turn you in. We’d just have to rescue you before Dravik kills you,” Kanan said. “I think we could come up with something to pull that off…”

She shook her head. “That’s dicey. Let’s make that plan B. Do we have something better for plan A?”

No one spoke for several long moments. Finally, Kanan said, “I’m pretty good at Sabacc.”

Hera swiveled her head to look at him, and found him looking back. She suddenly remembered a story he’d told her about once cheating at Sabacc, using his abilities, at a point when he was dangerously low on credits. He’d still been a teenager then, still learning how to make his way in the Galaxy. The cheating bothered him, he’d told her. And then he’d said something about being able to take the kid out of the Jedi, but not the Jedi out of the kid.

It appeared, however, that he was willing to make an exception to get Hera’s friend out of a tight spot.

She smiled. “You’re suggesting we gamble for him?” she asked.

“What?! You?” Nash yelped, pointing at Kanan in horror. “You can’t beat that guy! Even if he wasn’t a cheater, he’d still beat you- it’s his job, and he’s good at it.”

Hera lifted her chin, leveling her Captain Hera look at Nash. “Kanan can beat Dravik.”

“Sure. We better come up with a solid plan B, in the very likely event that Kanan _can’t_ beat him,” Nash grumbled. “On that depressing note, I’m going back to bed.”

“You’re going back to bed? Typical. You know, it wouldn’t kill you to help out around here occasionally,” she complained.

“It might. And you’ve got Kanan back now, he’ll help you.” Nash pushed himself away from the table and stood. He pointed at her. “Keep that droid away from me, unless you want me to turn him into a pile of metal scrap!”

Hera and Kanan watched him leave, and then turned to look at each other.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Why? You don’t think I can beat him?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

She smirked. “Oh, I’m sure you can beat him. I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

 “Hey, don’t forget, I’m basically that guy’s indentured servant. I don’t have any problem whatsoever with it. All I really have to do is stay sober, and it should be pretty easy to figure out how he’s cheating- and how to undermine it.”

“I’m sure it will be. We just have to work out the details. Care to discuss it over a broken hyperdrive motivator?”

“ _Again_? When are they going to start making hyperdrive motivators that don’t constantly break?” Kanan scowled.

“That’s a yes, right?” she asked, laughing.

“Do I have a choice? But first, let’s finish these waffles,” he said, spearing one with a fork.

Hera grinned and bumped Kanan’s shoulder with her own. In spite of everything, it was going to be a lovely day.

 

 

A couple of Kanera-related things below...

 

Please note, both can be watched in HD. I don't own any of this stuff, obviously. 

 

Hera and Kanan's strength is that they lift each other up, so this song seems appropriate.

[Kanera- Remedy](https://vimeo.com/229515550) from [spec sev](https://vimeo.com/user69931913) on [Vimeo](https://vimeo.com).

 

This one has a little 90's flavor. Kanan seems like a 90's music kind of guy to me. 

[Kanera- Stand Inside Your Love](https://vimeo.com/229494840) from [spec sev](https://vimeo.com/user69931913) on [Vimeo](https://vimeo.com).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's been awhile since I updated. This chapter was hard to write, too. I was having some trouble figuring out where the story was going. But there needed to be more characters- in particular, some kind of antagonist. I thought it was interesting to bring a bad guy male Twi'lek into it, as sort of a juxtaposition to H & K. I think we'll meet him at some point. The character also gives me a chance to get a little more into Hera's backstory. The other thing was that I thought it might be fun to have them dress up and cheat at a casino. I came up with that idea before I knew about the whole casino thing in TLJ, but whatever. Casino plots are hardly original. So, anyway...that's on the way.
> 
> Listening rec: I've been listening to a lot of 70's tunes lately, for some reason. So this chapter was "Lovely Day" by Bill Withers, and "You're so Vain" by Carly Simon, mostly to get the feel for Nash and Sarat (Sarat is very vain). Both songs colored the chapter, obviously. The chapter title doesn't really refer to anything, just thought it would be fun to change "clouds in my coffee" to "clouds in my caf" (you know you're really far gone when you start referring to coffee as caf in real life)...although, if you really want to read into it, it might have something to do with Nash getting involved with an awful person at a young age...


	22. Luck be a Jedi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks after the last chapter, we find our heroes (or idiots) on their way to meet up with Ino Dravik the sleemo gambler.

"We're going to need a room," Nash announced, to no one in particular. "If I'm going to die, I want to look and smell like a million credits."

Kanan exchanged exasperated glances with Hera. They were walking a couple of paces behind Nash, headed down a promenade on the 5,120th level of the one place he had been told never to return.

 _Coruscant_ , Kanan thought, shaking his head in disbelief. He heard Obi Wan Kenobi's voice echoing in his mind, as he recalled the last time he'd been anywhere near Coruscant:

_"This is Master Obi Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain."_

Kanan remembered sitting in the cockpit of the ship he'd stolen from Janus Kasmir, the  _Kasmiri,_ as it came out of hyperspace above Coruscant; he remembered the shock and horror he'd felt when he first heard Master Kenobi's beacon message. As their transport from Lothal had moved through Coruscant's traffic towards the spaceport, his eyes automatically searched for the Temple, even though he knew it was now the Imperial Palace. Cold anger settled in his gut at the sight of the Temple so sullied. He was not happy to be back.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Hera asked him. She'd been keeping one eye on him ever since the decision to go Coruscant had been made.

Kanan shrugged. "I can't run from my past forever," he said.  _But I still want to try._  Hera arched an eyebrow at him, but she said nothing more about it.

Meanwhile, Nash strode down the crowded promenade like he owned the place, and even the Imperials got out of his way. Kanan couldn't help but marvel at the guy's confidence, walking onto a planet like Coruscant with a bounty on his head like he didn't have single care in the Galaxy.

"We're not getting a room," Hera informed Nash's leather-clad back. "What's the point?"

Nash stopped abruptly, causing Hera and Kanan to do the same, which caused a chorus of grumbling in several different languages from the people on the busy promenade who plowed into them. He whirled around dramatically, ignoring the irritated crowd.

"This might be my last night alive, Hera. Are you so cold that you'd deny me a few last requests?" Nash demanded, staring imperiously down at her from his significantly higher altitude.

Hera glared up at him, planting her fists on her hips. "You're being melodramatic. You're not going to die. I told you, Kanan will beat him."

Nash rolled his eyes. "Your unshakable faith in Kanan is adorable, but it's not particularly comforting for the guy with his neck on the line. If you're going to ask me to trust Kanan's skill at Sabacc against Ino Dravik,  _the Galaxy's reigning Sabacc champion_ , I don't see why you can't honor a few simple requests. I'm going along with this ridiculous, harebrained scheme; I want new clothes, I want good food, I want a nice bottle, and I want a shower that isn't in the tiny refresher on your ship. And...let me just say...you two could  _both_  use a shower and some new clothes, too. I don't want anyone thinking I've got rabble from the lower levels tagging along with me on my last big night out."

Hera's only answer to this speech was to purse her lips and give her lekku a toss.

"Well, he's right about one thing..." Kanan said, before he could stop himself.

"What's that?" Hera asked, in a tone that indicated she wasn't really that interested in the answer.

He gave her a crooked grin. "Your faith in me  _is_  adorable."

She tried to keep herself from smiling back, failed, and then gave up on being stoic entirely by letting out an uncharacteristic peal of tinkling laughter. A jolt of warmth pulsed through Kanan, alleviating some of the anxiety he'd been feeling. Hera's voice was captivating, but her laugh was intoxicating.

Nash made a sound of disgust. "I don't know how much longer I can take this whole third wheel thing," he muttered.

"You can leave whenever you want," Hera said airily.

Nash ignored her, and turned to Kanan. "What do  _you_  think?" he demanded. "Are you up for a nice dinner and a nice bottle? Some fancy new clothes? I'm buying!"

Kanan shrugged. "I'm not opposed to any of that, but I'd rather get this over with quickly, and get out of here."

"We're finally off that boring planet you two like so much, and you want to go back already? What's wrong with Coruscant? This is where the action is!" Nash said, waving an arm at all the alleged action around him, and narrowly missing whacking a Stormtrooper in his bucket.

"Hey! Watch it, or I'll haul you in!" the Stormtrooper yelled.

"Sorry!" Nash said. "I'm just showing these two dolts the sights..."

"Just watch yourself," the buckethead growled, starting to move away.

"Will do!" Nash called after him.

"Do you think Nash actually meant to say 'too much action'?" Kanan asked Hera.

"That's what he really should've said," Hera replied. Turning to Nash, she added, "And we're not dolts."

"Hmmm. Well, you have your opinion, and I have mine," Nash said. "Just up ahead there's a great little boutique, Hera. Go buy a dress, for the love of the Force, will you? Have some fun for a change."

Hera gave him a stony look. "Wearing a dress isn't my idea of fun."

"Oh, we're all  _well_  aware of what your idea of fun is, and let me tell you, you're the  _only_  one who thinks that fixing that blasted hyperdrive constantly is fun," Nash groused.

"All right, all right," Kanan interrupted, putting a hand up between them. "Enough bickering. You two are giving me a headache. You know, Hera, we should really try to look the part, at least. This casino we're going to is pretty upscale, and they might not even let us in if we look like we do right now."

He knew the best way to get Hera to agree to something was to point out the logic in it, and then connect it to the mission. She'd usually go for it. This instance was no exception- but she was still reluctant.

She screwed up her face in distaste for a moment, and then looked down at her flight suit. "I don't look  _that_  terrible," she said.

"You have starship grease all over your pants," Nash pointed out.

"Okay,  _fine_ ," she said. "I'll get something to wear. And, yes, Nash, we can get a room and get cleaned up."

"You forgot to mention the dinner and the bottle."

"And dinner and a bottle!" she growled. "Stars, you're annoying!"

"Likewise!" Nash said, giving her a light shove in the direction of the boutique. Then he turned to Kanan. "Come on, mate. I know  _just_  what to get for you."

A half-hour later, the package-toting trio met up in the lobby the Coruscant Crown Casino's adjacent hotel, the aptly named Coruscant Crown Hotel.

"I was thinking that we could go to this little Ithorian restaurant I know, on the next level up," Nash was saying, as the Bith clerk at the reception desk set up their booking.

Hera glanced at Kanan, and he realized that he must have still looked on edge, because she hurriedly said, "No, let's just eat here. There's a perfectly good restaurant right in the hotel."

"It  _is_  a very good restaurant," the Bith clerk told them. "We have many prominent guests eating there every night."

Nash looked interested.

"See?" Hera said. She looked at the clerk. "We'll take a table for three in an hour, if you could make us a reservation."

The clerk nodded. "I would be happy to."

The suite Nash had booked was unnecessarily sumptuous, which earned him an irritated look from Hera. Even though Kanan knew that Hera really wasn't interested in such things, he momentarily wished that he had the credits to treat her to something like that room- especially because it meant he might get to be alone with her in it. He glanced surreptitiously at her, and found her looking back at him with slightly narrowed eyes, and a suspicious twist to her lips. She always seemed to know when he was thinking about her in a less-than-wholesome way. He gave her a sheepish look, and tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to push the thoughts to the back of his mind.

While Nash was singing loudly in the refresher, Kanan and Hera stood on the suite's spacious balcony, watching the multilevel lanes of speeder traffic crisscross the darkening sky.

"Was it like this when you were a boy? Was it so crowded and noisy, back then?" Hera asked.

"Yeah, it was. But I think it's gotten worse. Either that, or I've just gotten used to the peace and quiet on Lothal. Have you been here before?"

"A couple of times," she answered. "But mostly just pickups for cargo runs, things like that. I never spent any length of time here. Is it strange, being here again? I feel like I should have tried harder to talk Nash out of wanting to do this stupid scheme on Coruscant."

"It's not the smartest thing we've ever done. In fact, it's one of the dumber things we've done, and that's saying something. What was our reasoning, again? He somehow talked us into it, and I'm not even sure how he did it."

"He does that," she nodded. "Well, his ship is still here, for one thing, and he's been complaining about that for months now. It's definitely a case of one blaster bolt, two mynocks: he stops complaining (about that, at least), and we get to leave on a fast ship that isn't mine. But I think his reasoning was that it would be easier for us to disappear here, if things go badly."

"That makes  _no_  sense," Kanan said. "This is literally the heart of the Empire. What were we thinking, Hera?" He turned to look at her, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a roguish smirk.

Her eyes widened ever-so-slightly as she looked at him, and then she dropped her gaze and leaned on the balcony railing. A moment later, she looked up at him from under her lashes, her face lit by the glow of neon lights. " _Were_  we thinking? I'm not sure that we were. I can't imagine why..." she murmured.

He took a step closer to her, closing the small distance between them. "I don't think we were, either. We must've been...distracted."

"That's a plausible theory," she answered, and her voice had taken on a slightly deeper tone. A darker green flush colored her cheeks, and it was very pretty.

Kanan leaned one elbow on the rail, too, which brought his face quite a bit closer to hers. "I'm really distracted right now, come to think of it."

"Are you?" she asked innocently.

"You're not?" He was close enough now to catch a whiff of her- a mysteriously spicy scent that he found extremely alluring.

"I didn't say that..."

Her eyelids fluttered closed as he brushed his lips against hers. He traced his fingertips along her jawline and kissed her softly, not wanting to rush. Unfortunately, there was an annoying third wheel in the refresher who was eventually going to interrupt and ruin the moment. Kanan pressed his lips against hers one last time, and then very reluctantly broke the kiss.

Hera's eyes opened, and her gaze was full of questioning disappointment.

"Nash," Kanan said, in response to her look. "I don't hear his bantha-slowly-dying singing voice anymore- he'll probably be out soon. "

Hera made a face that indicated that she agreed with the rationale, but was displeased nonetheless.

"So, are you sure you don't want me to do  _anything_  during the game with Dravik?" she asked, opting to change the subject.

"There's not much you can do," he answered. "Just watch my back. I'll need to concentrate."

"I've always watched your back, Kanan," she smiled. "Anyway, you beat me during every practice game we played, whether I cheated or not...I know you can handle this."

"You're pretty good at Sabacc, but you're not as good as Dravik," he reminded her, smiling a little at the recollection of her reaction to his half-joking suggestion of playing strip Sabacc. Her series of expressions- surprise, followed by involuntary interest, followed by a deep blush- had made him laugh loudly. That is, until her expression turned to a scowl, and he'd had to duck to narrowly miss being hit in the head by the caf cup she'd thrown at him.

"You can do this," she told him. "Do you want to go over the casino schematics again?"

"I've got the whole place and all the levels around it memorized. I'm not worried about knowing where the exits are, though. I'm worried about getting through them and getting to Nash's ship."

The plan was pretty loose, which was typically the way Kanan had always operated. He'd come up with an idea, and then just pretty much wing it from there. In the time he'd been working with Hera, though, he'd really come to appreciate the benefits of her solid planning skills. The problem, however, was that their plans always seemed to end up needing revising, mid-mission. He didn't doubt that this one would, too.

"If we have to go to plan B, what then?" Hera asked. "We're going to be in the same situation we were before. He's not going to be happy about you beating him, and he's going to want to know how you did it, Kanan. Even if you get him to wager the bounties on both your heads, he's probably not going to honor that bet if he loses."

Kanan raised an eyebrow. "Remember, Hera,  _you're_ the one who didn't want to resort to murder as plan A. He's a gambler; those are the rules he lives by. It's worth a shot, because otherwise, we'll just have to kill him. We  _definitely_  don't have the credits to pay him off."

She nodded slowly. "You're right."

"Can I get that in writing?" he asked.

Hera smirked at him, and just as she opened her mouth to retort, Nash barreled out of the refresher.

"Dolts! Come see how great I look!" he hollered. Ignoring his own demand, he appeared on the balcony a second later, arms spread.

Kanan had to admit that the guy cleaned up pretty well. His black hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a white collarless shirt under a dark blue suit that was cut perfectly for someone as tall and lanky as Nash. Kanan idly wondered if his own suit was going to look as good. He'd never had much cause to care about things like clothes before- women had always seemed to like him, regardless of what he was wearing. But now he found himself suddenly caring quite a bit about what Hera's reaction was going to be, and hoping he was going to catch her off guard, for once.

"You didn't shave," Hera told Nash, unwilling to contribute to his enormous ego.

Nash rubbed his stubble. "It makes me look more dangerous, don't you think?"

Hera rolled her eyes. "Sure it does. Kanan, you're next. And then I'm kicking you both out."

When Kanan emerged from his own shower in the suite's huge refresher (which, he had to admit, was a pleasant change from the  _Ghost's_  tight quarters), he was disappointed to find Hera gone.

"Where'd Hera go?" he asked Nash, who was lolling in one of the plush chairs, with a bottle of Corellian brandy dangling from one hand.

Nash shrugged. "She muttered something about wanting to throw me off the balcony, and then something about a walk? I don't know, mate. She's just going to make us leave when she gets back, anyway, so let's go downstairs to the bar!" He plonked the brandy on the desk and headed for the door.

"I can't drink," Kanan reminded Nash, as he followed him to the door. "I need to be sober if I'm going to beat Dravik."

"You're going to need to be a lot more than sober to beat him, but sure. And I'm happy to drink for both of us."

Kanan shot him a sideways look as they walked down the hall towards the lift. "You should probably keep it to a dull roar too, you know."

"What do you take me for? I can hold my liquor. By the way, that suit I picked out for you looks terrific. You better watch yourself tonight."

Kanan's eyebrows went up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's just that rich people  _love_  having pretty arm-candy. You didn't think I was talking about Hera, did you? Because I wouldn't count on getting too much of a reaction from her, if I were you," Nash said, tapping the button for the lift.

"What makes you say that?" Kanan asked, trying to sound casual.

Nash huffed. "Don't get me wrong, she likes the way you look quite a bit; she's not oblivious, and she's definitely not stupid. It's just that exteriors don't interest her as much as things like good moral character, kindness, compassion...you know, boring things like that. You must have a lot going on in that department, otherwise she wouldn't be kissing you all over her kriffing ship."

Kanan's mouth dropped open. "That's not- we're not-"

"Uh huh. Sure," Nash interrupted. "It's not that big a ship, you know. Don't be embarrassed, mate. If you two were doing anything juicier than that, I'd be a lot more interested, but I know you're not."

"Great," Kanan scowled.

Nash clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. She's madly in love with you; you'll get there."

"That's not what I...wait. You think she's madly in love with me?"

The lift dinged, and the door slid open; Nash got in, rolling his eyes. Kanan followed him in and hit the button for the lobby level.

"Yeah, of course she is," Nash said. "Probably not as much as you are with her, though. I mean, you  _did_  leave her. But you should see yourself when you look at her. It's pretty pathetic. How did you two idiots meet, anyway?"

"Sometimes I can really see why she wants to shove you off balconies and out airlocks, you know," Kanan told him.

Nash shrugged. "I have that effect on people. So? How did you meet?"

"She didn't tell you?" Kanan asked.

"Getting information out of her is like pulling teeth out of a rancor, mate. Surely you know this."

"Yeah. I'm familiar with it." Kanan recounted a very abridged version of meeting Hera on Gorse, and the series of literally explosive events that followed. By the time he finished, they'd been at the bar for twenty minutes already, and Nash was dutifully nursing a glass of wine.

"And she just hired you as crew, just like that?" Nash asked him, eyebrows raised. "Hera? She's been known to be impulsive and reckless, but inviting some guy she just met to live on her ship? She must like you more than she's letting on."

Kanan smiled; Hera liking him more than she was letting on had been the story of his life for the better part of the past year.

Nash glanced over his shoulder, did a double-take, and then turned, saying, "Speaking of Hera..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be more coming very soon, I'm just doing some polishing. There's definitely some fluffy stuff here, but that's okay. My main reason for starting this fic in the first place was that I wanted to know how Hera and Kanan fell in love. But, since we're now heading into the fourth and final season, and we don't know what's going to happen to these characters (read: what's going to happen to Kanan), I like the idea of them having some fun. It's too depressing to think of all the things they've been through, and then decide that their first few years together weren't fun. The other thing, at least from a writing point of view, is that they can't really be fighting the Empire like they do on the show. I mean, the whole point of the first season is to show Kanan's reveal that he's a Jedi, and the Empire starting to crack down on these rebels on Lothal. If they were causing a really big problem back in 10 BBY or so, they probably never would have made it to the season 1 time period. Fulcrum even tells Hera that her mission was to remain unseen and unnoticed. So, as far as I'm concerned, that means they get to enjoy themselves a little. But we're still talking about Hera and Kanan, so they're going to get themselves into trouble regardless. 
> 
> Just a quick postscript about Nash: I love him. I hope you guys do, too, but I don't even care. He's just SO FUN to write. He obviously can't stick around forever, though. 
> 
> The title is a play on "Luck be a Lady" by Sinatra, of course. Young Kanan art is by Lorna Ka.


	23. Luck be a Jedi, Part II

Nash glanced over his shoulder, did a double-take, and then turned around, saying, “Speaking of Hera…”

Kanan turned too, and his stomach flip-flopped when he saw her. She was wearing a simple, floor-length dress in a rich, dark red; the neck of the gown left her throat and a good portion of her shoulders and upper chest exposed, and the skirts flowed from a fitted bodice. She wore a matching, unadorned headpiece.

He felt an elbow jab into his ribs. “Close your mouth,” Nash said loudly. He had enough liquor on board to render his volume control inoperable.

Kanan hadn’t realized that his mouth was hanging open, but he wasn't surprised; he closed it, and made a vague attempt at composing himself. It seemed like a waste of time to even bothering trying, though. Hera’s expression, meanwhile, was a mixture of amusement and annoyance.  She flashed a quick, sweet smile at Kanan’s completely smitten, goggle-eyed, and likely very pathetic expression.

She was as cool as always, but there was a dark green flush creeping up her neck, and her brilliant green eyes had the telltale sheen that they seemed to acquire whenever he was kissing her. He could feel her in the Force, nearly vibrating. He smiled knowingly.

Hera’s eyes narrowed slightly when she saw his smile. She could read his expressions a little too well, sometimes. “You two look like gangsters,” she said.

“Did you get all the starship grease off?” Nash shot back cheerfully.

“Knock it off, both of you,” Kanan said, unable to peel his eyes off the woman of his dreams. “Hera, you look…”

“She looks like her mother,” Nash said, gazing at Hera in unabashed admiration. His voice had lost the usual sardonic tone. “Beautiful. Tislera was a better mother to me than my own mother was.”

Hera and Nash looked at each other for a moment, and Kanan saw that there was a true, deep bond of friendship there, despite the constant sibling-like bickering.

“She felt bad for you,” Hera said. “The poor little human boy, on a planet of Twi’leks.”

Nash grinned. “Such a hardship for me, looking at all of those ridiculously attractive Twi’leks, yes.”

Hera rolled her eyes. “You have issues, Nash.”

“Don’t I know it! Let’s eat.”

Dinner was mostly uneventful; Nash’s surprisingly soft-hearted comments about Hera’s appearance and her mother seemed to have warmed Hera’s heart, and she let most of his ridiculous commentary slide without saying anything sarcastic in response. She even seemed to be letting herself enjoy it.

For his part, Kanan was too distracted by Hera to pay much attention to anything else. Regardless of how many times he tried to look elsewhere, his eyes kept dragging themselves back to her. She was having an easier time of it, but even so, they’d shared so many charged looks that Kanan was completely discomposed. He had no idea what he’d ordered, and couldn’t focus for very long on whatever it was Nash was rambling about.

His inattention did not go unnoticed. Nash kicked him under the table.

“Ow! What was that for?!” he yelped.

“You need to get it together, mate. I know Hera thinks you’re some kind of Sabacc wizard genius, but I’m pretty doubtful about that. And if you’re too busy mooning over her the whole night, our chances of not dying are going to drop to less than zero. We’re at zero right now, in case you were wondering.”

Kanan shot a glance at Hera, who was conspicuously avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed dark green.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

Nash laughed loudly, which earned him a few cross looks from the other diners. “Sure you are,” he said.

Kanan knew, deep down, that Nash was right. He’d have to make more of an effort to focus.

After watching Nash eat and drink all the most expensive things on the restaurant’s menu, the three of them walked across the hotel lobby to the casino’s entrance. Coruscant Crown Casino was opulent in all the most ostentatious ways: rich dark colors with gold accents, gaming tables made out of Wroshyr wood, and throngs of expensively-dressed, wealthy patrons waiting to gamble their credits away.

Hera’s scowl made it clear that she was frustrated and angry about the grand show of Imperial wealth on display; Kanan also found it hard to stomach, after seeing the poverty on so many Outer Rim planets. Imperial officers and senators mingled, toasting each other’s fine accomplishments in bringing the Galaxy’s people to their knees. He felt a frown forming on his own face, and quickly neutralized it. Getting angry about it wasn’t going to help his focus, or Hera’s.

Kanan touched her elbow, and she looked up at him. “Now’s not the time,” he murmured.

The aggravation in her face reduced fractionally, and she sighed. “I know. But it’s hard not to want to blow this place up.”

He felt it was best not to engage in that particular discussion at that particular moment, so he decided to change the subject. He brushed his fingertips very lightly against her lower back, which was exposed by her dress. She shivered almost imperceptibly, and her anger seemed to dissipate.

“I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you’re stunning, Hera,” he told her, in a low tone. 

The look in her eyes was difficult to decipher, but he was pretty sure that if they weren’t walking through a huge crowd of people, she would have kissed him. “Thanks,” she finally said. “I don’t know about a black suit over a black shirt, but it looks nice on you.”

 _"Nice_?! Come on, Hera. I think you can do better than that. Don’t you mean to say that I’m the handsomest guy you’ve ever laid your eyes on, regardless of what color I’m wearing?”

She gave him a long sideways look, with one eyebrow arched. “I meant what I said,” she told him with a smirk.

Nash, who was clearly in his element as he strutted through the casino, snorted. “Sorry, Kanan, but I’m the winner, in that department.”

“You’re  _definitely_  the winner in the ego department,” Hera said dryly.

“Sorry, Hera, but I can’t hear you. I’m too busy making everyone in here look like space trash,” Nash said, scanning the enormous room with glinting black eyes. “Speaking of space trash...there’s Dravik. What are the chances he’ll kill me on sight?”

“Pretty low,” Kanan said. “I don’t think he’d start anything with all these people around.”

“Didn’t you say that one of his giant henchmen beat you up at The Credit Chip?” Nash asked.

“Yeah, but that was The Credit Chip. It’s on a space station in the Brentaal system; this is the Coruscant Crown Casino. This is the kind of place where henchmen drag you into the back room before they beat you up.”

Nash inclined his head in agreement. “Good point. So what are the chances his henchmen will drag me in the back room and kill me on sight?”

Kanan rubbed his goatee. “You better stay out of his sight, and let me deal with him.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Nash said. “Take Hera with you, maybe she’ll distract him.”

“I can handle it,” Kanan said, avoiding Hera’s annoyed look. He didn’t want to involve her unless necessary.

“I’m going with you,” Hera said. “We talked about this, Kanan. I’m the one who calls the shots about what I do, not you.”

“It’s not that, Hera. It’s just that I don’t want him to know who I’ve got for backup.” That wasn’t  _entirely_ true, and Kanan knew it, but he wasn’t about to say so.

“All right, fine. I’ll keep my distance,” she said, in a tone that said the subject was no longer open to debate.

Kanan shrugged, turned away, and headed in the direction of Dravik. He could feel Hera behind him, and she  _was_  keeping her distance. Dravik was mingling with a group of rich-looking people, over by the Sabacc tables. He immediately spotted Kanan coming towards him, and broke away from the group, flanked by the giant who had beaten Kanan up at The Credit Chip.

“Well. Look what the gundark dragged in,” Ino Dravik drawled. He was a beak-nosed Pantoran, and although well-dressed and coiffed, he somehow still always managed to look greasy. “You clean up well, Jarrus. It hasn’t escaped my attention that my many attempts to contact you have gone unanswered. I assumed Arkanian got the better of you, but of course, I couldn’t just take that at face value. I assume you’ve come to explain yourself? Or do you have Arkanian here with you?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

Dravik raised an eyebrow. “I’m not interested in negotiating. Either you have him, or you don’t. And if you don’t...well, you’re already acquainted with my bodyguard. I’m sure he’ll be happy to give you some in-depth, personal attention.” The giant gave Kanan a grin full of rotting teeth.

“It’s not a negotiation. It’s a wager.”  _Moment of truth_ , Kanan thought.

“A wager?” Dravik looked amused. “Do tell.”

“If I beat you in a game of Sabacc, you drop the bounty on Nash Arkanian’s head. And the one that's probably on mine, now, too.”

Dravik bellowed with laughter. “I’ve seen you play! Are you serious? Nevermind, I can see that you think you are. What do I get when I win?”

“ _If_  you win,” Kanan said, “You can have Arkanian.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you owe me a considerable sum of credits. That’s why you were looking for Nash Arkanian in the first place.”

“You get Arkanian, and I capture five more bounties for you.” Kanan had no intention of doing any more of Ino Dravik’s dirty work.

“What’s Arkanian to you, all of a sudden?” Dravik demanded.

“Brother-in-law. I married his sister,” Kanan said, with a impertinent grin.

Dravik narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if Kanan was joking or not. “You think you’re a slick one, Jarrus. I’m going to enjoy beating you.”

“Does that mean you’re accepting my wager?”

“I’m accepting it. It should be a quick game, if the last one was any indication.”

Kanan smirked. “I was blind drunk, last time. And I would’ve won, if you hadn’t been cheating.”

Dravik scowled darkly. “Come back in an hour. After I win, I may have my bodyguard beat you up again, just for fun.”

“Looking forward to it,” Kanan said. He turned and headed back towards the bar, brushing past Hera as he went.

He stepped up to the bar next to Nash, and a moment later, Hera wedged herself between them.

“It’s all set up,” Kanan told them.

“Good,” Hera said. “He went for all of it?”

“Of course he went for it! He can’t lose. I can’t believe I let you two talk me into this,” Nash complained.

“ _We_  talked  _you_  into this?” Hera hissed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Well,” a deep yet droll voice came suddenly from behind them. “I must say, I’m surprised to see  _you_  here, Nash.”

Nash did not turn around. Instead, he took a slow and deliberate sip of his brilliant blue beverage. Kanan and Hera, however, both peered over their respective shoulders to see who had spoken.

A tall, handsome, purple-skinned Twi’lek male stood there, one long lek draped over the shoulder of a very expensive-looking and well-made grey suit. He held his own brightly colored drink in one hand, and the other was tucked casually into the pocket of his jacket. The expression he wore was one of mild amusement, combined with a clear sense of his own importance; he didn’t bother to spare even a glance at Hera and Kanan, keeping his light brown eyes fixed on the back of Nash’s head.

Kanan looked at Hera; she was glowering at the Twi’lek from under her brows, fury gathering in her face. This, then, must be the infamous Sarat, Ryloth's representative in the Imperial Senate.

Nash placed his glass on the bar and turned, slowly, until he was facing the Twi’lek. He smiled broadly.

“Sarat.  _So_  nice to see you again,” Nash said, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Oh, dear. I see that you’re still angry with me. But you know, it’s been  _months_  since our little jaunt to that delicious tropical paradise! I certainly expected to hear from you sooner; where have you been?” Sarat had abandoned the accent of his home world in favor of the accent most Core worlds and Imperials used, and he spoke it with a lilt that made it seem like he found everything incredibly entertaining. It grated on Kanan’s nerves.

“Oh, you know me. Here, there, and everywhere. I’ve been keeping myself busy,” Nash said, all nonchalance.

“Is that right?” Sarat asked, eyebrows raised. “I do hear the most absurd things, you know. For instance, I heard that you were hiding out on some drab little cultural backwater in the Outer Rim, with a massive bounty on your head. Isn’t that interesting?”

Nash shrugged. “I guess it might be, if there were any truth to it.”

“Oh, come now, Nash. You know better than to lie to  _me_. Besides, my sources are very reliable.”

“I bet they are,” Nash scowled. “Still hanging around with Ino Dravik, I see.”

“Mmmhmm. Well, you know, I just find what he does so exciting, and he’s perfectly willing to come to Coruscant to do it...unlike some people I can think of. And, of course, he’s quite wealthy. We run in the same circles. The glitterati of Coruscant, if you will.”

Sarat’s eyes slid to Nash’s right, possibly drawn there by the rage that was now boiling in Hera’s face. Sarat’s eyes widened, and he laughed merrily.

“My goodness! Hera Syndulla, princess of the Tann Province! I didn’t even notice you there, which is hardly to be believed, given what you look like in that dress. Shame on me! Of course, it  _is_  a bit difficult to recognize you when you’re not wearing a flight suit covered in starship grease. You certainly have grown to be quite a fiery beauty; if you like, I can introduce you to any number of powerful men who would  _love_  to have you on their arm.”

Kanan twitched with irritation, and the movement immediately attracted Sarat’s attention.

“Gracious!” he exclaimed, looking at Kanan in disbelief. “The drinks must be strong this evening;  _how_  did I miss seeing this handsome lad? Nash, you certainly do travel with a much nicer-looking crowd these days. I wholeheartedly approve.”

“That’s a relief,” Nash muttered.

Sarat turned his attention back to Hera, who may or may not have been working her hand towards the blaster that was undoubtedly concealed in her dress. Kanan decided that getting her away from this guy was probably in everyone’s best interest, and the sooner, the better. He cleared his throat, getting ready to suggest that they go check out the Pazaak tables, but Sarat spoke first.

“How is Cham these days, Hera? I hear such discouraging things from Ryloth. Of course, I’m hardly ever there, but I have my informants. Do you know what he’s been up to?”

Hera narrowed her eyes. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell  _you_.”

“I see that you’re just as charming as you always were,” Sarat chuckled. “But, yes, of course, I remember now. You left Ryloth a couple of years ago, isn’t that right? I did get word of that; one tends to hear about it when the best pilot in the Free Ryloth Movement abandons it. My superiors were happy to hear it, of course, so thank you for that. I certainly don’t blame you for leaving; it’s a horrid place, truly. My whole life changed for the better, the moment I left. No doubt it was the same for you as well.”

Hera’s eyes were ablaze with fury, and she was no longer bothering to be subtle about digging around in her dress for her blaster. Kanan gently wound his fingers around her right wrist, halting her efforts.

Nash had moved a little closer to Hera, as if planning to tackle her if she got out of hand. “Kanan,” he said, “Maybe you ought to show Hera the Holotables they’ve got upstairs. I think she would really enjoy that.”

Sarat merely looked amused, still standing with one hand in his pocket and the other around his drink. He couldn't possibly have missed the fact that he was looking at someone who was very close to killing him, but he was utterly unperturbed by it. 

Kanan pulled Hera’s fingers off her blaster’s grip one by one, and wrapped his own fingers firmly around them. He tugged her hand, pulling her away from the Senator. Fortunately, it seemed as though his touch had brought her back to her senses, and she did not resist. She did, however, glare at Sarat with eyes full of malice as she went by him.

“Let me kill him, Kanan,” she hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot. “Please.”

Kanan shook his head. “You were completely against murder, when it came to the guy who wants to kill both me  _and_  your oldest friend, but now it’s okay? He’s a member of the Imperial Senate, Hera. You can’t kill him. We’d never make it off this planet.”

“You don’t know what he’s done. He needs to die.” Hera’s face was a mask of hatred, and the expression was so alien on her that he almost didn’t recognize her.

“I tried to find some information about him on the HoloNet, but it was all a bunch of glowing biographies and achievements,” Kanan said.

“Oh, he probably wrote all of that himself. He’s his own favorite subject,” Nash said, from right behind them.

Hera gasped. “Where did you come from?”

“The same place you last saw me? Honestly, Hera, that’s a strange question.”

“I thought you were talking to that sleemo,” she growled. Kanan kept a firm hold on her hand, just in case.

“You really think I want to talk to him? What do you take me for? I’ll tell you what he did, Kanan, if you really want to know. Well, the abridged version, anyway. He starved little kids, shut down med centers, took away funding for the elderly and education, to name a few. He’s not a nice guy,” Nash said, with a shrug. "He'll do anything to anybody, as long as it means that he gets what  _he_  wants."

Hera’s expression was thunderously angry. “You always seem to understate how terrible he is. And why aren’t you talking to him now, all of a sudden? Last time you saw him, you ran off with him on some kind of romantic vacation. Don’t tell me I convinced you to grow a conscience.”

Nash huffed. “A conscience? Me? Come on, Hera. It’s really just that I was  _very_  drunk, the last time I saw him.  _Very_  drunk. I mean, I really can’t overstate how drunk I was. I’m much more sober tonight.”

Hera’s eyes got very round as she stared at him. “That’s definitely information that could have been brought to my attention before today.”

“You think so little of me,” Nash pouted.

Hera looked like she was ready to shoot Nash, too. “Can you give us a minute?” Kanan asked him, although the tone he used was meant to indicate that he wasn't really asking. 

Nash shrugged. “I’m going to play some Pazzak,” he announced, stalking away.

Kanan looked down at Hera. “I understand how you must feel, but we can't kill him, Hera."

“The way he talks about Ryloth…”

“I know.”

“Thanking me for leaving! The nerve!”

“Hera,” Kanan said. “We have a job to do. We can’t get sidetracked. And if we want to leave this planet, we can't kill him.”

The tension of anger drained out of her face and body. She looked up at him and nodded. Her hand was warm in his.

“I abandoned my father and Ryloth, Kanan,” she sighed. “He’s a sleemo, but he’s right about that.”

He squeezed her hand gently.

“He knew my guilt would make me angry; he was right about that, too.”

“I’m sure you left for the right reasons,” Kanan told her.

“I did. And they were,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty about it.”

“The guilt is hard to let go of. Believe me, I understand,” Kanan said. He had a sudden strong urge to tell her how much he loved her, but instead, he just gazed at her like an idiot.

She studied his face, meeting his eyes with a similarly warm look of her own.

“Well,” she said, “Let’s go play some Sabacc.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find Hera's mother's name anywhere, so I made one up for her- I was tired of her not having a name- but then someone told me that they'd seen her name on the SW blog! I can't tell you how happy I was to find this out, so thanks Kgirl!
> 
> I got a couple of comments about what Hera was going to be wearing, so I hope it was satisfying for you guys! Kanan doesn't know about dresses, so his description of it wasn't going to be all that great. Hera would pick out something classy that wasn't too revealing, and something that she could fight/run/hide her blaster in, so not too tight or form fitting. I pictured more of a 50's style dress with a sort of boat-neck cut, except with way more of a scoop neck to it, cap sleeves, and a long flowy skirt. I figured that if I was going to dress her up, I might as well go for it, so the dress is dark red. I wanted them both to wear colors that were really different than what they normally wear- which also happen to be Imperial colors (Kanan's wearing all black). Anyway, even though dresses aren't really Hera's thing, I think she's no different the rest of us- she's not opposed to the object of her affection thinking she looks (extra) beautiful. And, of course, he does. Future blind Kanan deserves some nice memories of Hera looking fancy and hot. 
> 
> I listened to a lot of different things while writing this, but "Bad Time" by The Jayhawks, "Thin Air" by Pearl Jam, and "Ain't that a Kick in the Head" by Dean Martin (for the casino feel) were the main ones I kept going back to.


End file.
